Princes and Princesses
by So Much Tea
Summary: Sequel to Kings and Queens. Emma is finally getting used to life in the spotlight. She has many people to help her along the way; her son, her friends and her boyfriend, Killian Jones. But changes are going to have to be made on Kings and Queens, and the world she's getting used to is about to turn upside down, leaving her questioning if she ever really understood it at all.
1. Chapter 1

**So a few notes before this chapter: this is a sequel to Kings and Queens, which you'll be able to find in my other stories. If you haven't read it but want to read this, don't worry about it! I've done my best to fill in as many blanks as possible, so a new reader would be able to understand without reading the 1st one. However, if you want to see Emma and Killian fall in love, check it out!**

 **Secondly, thank you so much to you guys who wanted a sequel! I didn't think the idea would be met with so much enthusiasm so it really really means a lot to me that you guys are on board with this. I'm excited because I just think there's so much I could do with this universe. Thank you for supporting me with Kings and Queens- I hope you like Princes and Princesses. And with that, let's dive into the next chapter of Emma and Killian's journey! Happy reading!**

* * *

Chapter 1

* * *

Emma pulls on her jeans. She jumps up and down on the spot as she tugs. They're a little tight, and it's a fight to fasten them– she even ends up catching her skin as she zips them up. It's official. Emma has entered into a relationship where she is _so_ happy, that she has given into chocolate and cake. Or maybe her jeans have just shrunk in the wash. Hopefully.

A beep comes from outside. _Shit,_ she thinks as she hops over to the window, and peeks through the curtain. It's Killian- she knew it would be- sat in one of his many cars. What is it this time? A Mercedes? A Jag? She doesn't know and quite frankly, she doesn't care as long as it gets them to work.

She grabs her phone from where she'd thrown it on the bed, and types out a reply.

 **Be down in a second. Getting ready.**

His reply is instant.

 **Need some help? ;)**

She can't help but smile.

 **Haha.**

It's at that moment she realises how late she's running. Hell, Killian's already outside and she hasn't even got her shirt on yet. She grabs something crumpled from the bottom of her bed, knowing she'll be changing into her costume soon anyway. She pulls her hair into a tight ponytail at the back of her head. She passes for presentable now; she can be attractive later, when she gets Killian alone.

Killian.

Her boyfriend.

She never thought she'd say that outloud, not after everything that happened in the last year. But they've been together a few months now and she can honestly say, she's never been happier. Everyone loves him: her son, Mary Margaret (who keeps asking them to dinner), and even David. Though he was a little suspicious at first, _insisting_ that Graham was a far better match, he's warmed up to him. If Killian could charm David, he can charm anyone.

She runs out her house, slamming the door behind her. It's only then that she realises it's five in the morning, and Henry is probably still fast asleep. _Sorry kid,_ she thinks, as she makes her way over to Killian's silver, well, whatever-it-is and slides in.

"Emma," he says with an easy smile.

"Killian, hey," she says, hoping her voice sounds calm, and doesn't betray the butterflies she seems to get whenever he's around.

As if he can read her mind, he chuckles. Thankfully, he doesn't make any comments, but asks her if she's ready to go.

"Ready," she confirms, buckling herself in.

They've been carpooling for the first few weeks back at work. It's usually in one of Killian's fancy, stupidly expensive cars but sometimes they take Emma's bug when she wants to drive. The entire time Killian complains about the noise the engine makes and Emma rolls her eyes, but fails to suppress a smile. His complaining is a cross she's willing to bear. As long as they continue to carpool, that is.

"You look beautiful," he says, his eyes flickering towards her.

"I look tired," she says as she settles against the leather. She breathes in the familiar pine scent of his air freshener with a sigh. It's funny how the little things seem to catch her attention now. "My schedule is so messed up. It's so _early_ ; why does it have to be so early?" Then she remembers last night's shoot. "No, forget that, I could give with the early mornings, but why do they have to do night shoots? Why can't they just shoot in a dark room or something?"

"You should be showrunner."

"Don't make fun of me."

He gives her a look. "Me? Make fun of _you?_ I am offended, Swan."

"Yeah, yeah. Just keep your eyes on the road."

The road is almost deserted, as it should be at 5 am. The morning is peaceful against the gentle hum of the car and her own soft breathing. That's why the ding of her phone makes her jump. She pulls it out of her pocket and the words _Mary Margaret_ flash up on her screen.

 **Is today the day you're going to tell him you loooooove him?**

For one moment she frowns at her phone, wondering what the hell her friend is doing up so early, but then it dawns on her. She's probably up with Hope, her and David's three month old daughter. Emma's going to have to start getting used to that. She slips her phone into her jeans, but then her phone dings again.

 **Have you told him yet?**

She's just about to slip the phone back when–

 **Don't ignore me, Emma Swan! Get those words out. What are you waiting for?**

"Someone's popular," Killian comments.

"It's Mary Margaret," Emma sighs as she types out a hasty reply telling her friend to shut up, and she'll tell him when she's damn well ready.

"Oh, aye?"

"You don't wanna know. She's talking about you."

"Then surely I have a right to know?" She watches his lips curl up into a smirk. "Is it about my tight leather trousers?"

" _What?_ "

"Mary Margaret so kindly told me that you're partial to my leather trousers."

Emma's eyes widen. She remembers this conversation with Mary Margaret, about a week ago, on her first night out since she had Hope. It took a _lot_ of alcohol before Emma even opened up about Killian, let alone told her that she liked his leather _pants._ Though, it was less about the pants and more about his butt in said pants. That also happened to be the night she let slip that she was completely and irrevocably in love with him.

"Wh– when did you have this conversation?"

"Yesterday. We were on the phone and–"

" _You were on the phone?_ "

"Only for a few minutes, love. She wanted to ask you and I to dinner but since you keep giving such vague answers, she thought she'd ask me personally."

"I _was_ going to ask you," Emma says, a little sheepishly. "Just with work, I kinda forgot. We've been busy."

"Aye, we have. And I have a feeling we're about to get busier."

She looks at him, puzzled. "How come?"

"Well, we have that meeting today." When she continues to look at him blankly, he prompts, "With Belle."

"Oh yeah!"

" _My_ guess is that she'll be increasing our hours."

A few days ago Belle had sent an email telling everyone that there was to be a meeting tonight. The email was oddly cryptic, giving no information or hint to what the meeting might be about. That usually wouldn't have worried Emma, if it wasn't for the lack of warmth in the email. Especially since Belle's emails are _always_ warm. Always. But she knows Killian's probably right and it'll have to do with increasing hours or something along those lines.

"I just hope it's not because she's decided to bring Gold back," Emma murmurs, more to herself than anyone.

Ever since the writers found out Gold leaked the scripts, they've been finding a way to write him out the show with as minimal damage as possible. Even though everyone told Belle it wasn't a good idea, she wrote him out anyway. Emma can't help but agree with her. The king may have been a good villain in terms of story, but Gold had to pay some way or another. They can always find another villain. A show as established as _Kings and Queens_ has a big enough fanbase to push through this hiccup.

If anything, Emma's filming experience is much better without Gold breathing down her neck and she knows Killian's is too. As soon as they watched Gold walk off set, Killian visibly lightened, like the chip on his shoulder was gone.

"What can I say, Swan?" he said when she commented on it. "I'm not constantly thinking about punching him in the face now. And that's thanks to you!"

Emma's popularity with the rest of the cast and crew has soared since she exposed Gold for the snivelling rat he is and she's often greeted with wide smiles and back-patting. They must have really hated him. These days, the cast treat her like some sort of saviour. She likes the idea of that, for some reason.

"Have you read the scripts?" Killian asks, bringing her back to the present.

"Of _course_ I have."

"This season is going to be a brilliant one, I can feel it!"

He bounces in his seat, as excited as a child and she rolls her eyes again, though it's etched with fondness. She doesn't blame him; she's excited too. She's only been given the first few scripts, but they seem good. Now that the king has so sadly and so unexpectedly "died", Alexander, Killian's character, faces running the country alone. With the whole castle against his relationship with the servant Rose, Emma's character, they face a few bumps in the road. It sounds like a lot of angst.

If she's honest with herself, she prefers to act angst rather than being in love, especially with her and Killian's relationship. Before, she could separate work from romance, but now that they're together, it's proving difficult.

It doesn't help that every time they film a kiss, Will and Robin direct their wiggling eyebrows at the pair of them and Emma blushes, she actually _blushes._ Emma Swan doesn't blush for anything. At least, she thought she didn't.

"Anyone home?" Killian asks, tapping her on the forehead. "We're here."

Sure enough, he swings into a space in the parking lot. Emma looks around, blinking. She hadn't even noticed; she's been preoccupied with her own thoughts. She shakes her head, mumbles an apology and jumps out of the car into the warm air. It's so hot, her shirt is already sticking to her back.

"Ah, it's a fine day for heavy, layered period clothing," says Killian as he walks over to her, shielding his eyes from the sun.

She folds her arms. "Tell me about it."

They walk towards the make-up trailers together in silence. Emma itches to hold his hand, but she decides against it. Ever since they started their relationship, the media have been watching their every step. If they so much as look at each other and someone gets a sneaky photo of it, they're headline news. They have to be careful. They don't want every aspect of their life out there.

Well, Emma doesn't at least. She knows if Killian had his way, they'd be holding hands and practically skipping. The amount of times she's turned her face away as he leaned down to kiss her in public is starting to get ridiculous. That always sparks headlines too: TROUBLE IN PARADISE? KINGS AND QUEENS' KILLIAN GIVING UNWANTED AFFECTION?

It can't hurt him, not really, yet she can't help but feel a little guilty. But it's better this way.

"Hey guys," Ariel, their makeup and hair artist, says as they make their way into the trailer. "Take a seat. We've got a long day ahead of us."

Make-up is, as always, endless. They sit there for hours as Ariel and her team wash and curl her hair, then cover the dark circles under her eyes. Killian takes it all in his stride, leaning back in his chair, book in hand.

"What're you reading?" she asks, wishing she'd brought a book of her own.

"Just a novel about pirates, love," he says, keeping his eyes on the pages. "You know how much I love pirates."

After they've been made up and they're in their costumes, they make their way onto set, the sun beating down on them. It's always hard filming on location in this weather. She touches her fingertips to the back of her neck, which is damp with perspiration. At least it's only going to be a short scene, and then they'll be back to filming inside.

Emma's costume is ridiculously heavy and layered today, even though it's only a servant's dress. It weighs heavy on her hips and is tight around her waist, thanks to the corset. Her castmates aren't much better off, especially the men, who wear thick jackets over their shirts and trousers.

Elsa seems to be the worst though. She's wearing about seven layers, maybe even more. It's a bad day for royal purple and a wig that falls halfway down her back. She marches over to them, pulling her skirts up as she walks.

"It's a tough life," she says in way of greeting.

"Tell me about it." Emma laughs. "How are you?"

"Oh, so and so. To be honest, I'm a little worried about the meeting. Belle hasn't called for one in a while."

"I'm sure it's nothing to worry about," Killian says, draping an arm around Emma. She leans into him, despite the heat. "What could go wrong?"

"I don't know. They might be bringing Gold back," Elsa says, grimly.

"If that's the case, I'll eat my shield."

Everyone laughs. "I wouldn't make bets like that if I were you, Killian," Emma says. He responds by pressing a chaste kiss to her forehead.

"Right, everyone!" comes a loud voice, making them jump.

They all turn to see Grumpy, the director, marching towards them, his team behind him. He carries a clipboard, waving it at them vigorously. His face is red, his eyes narrowed. Already, Emma can tell he's not in a good mood. For one wild moment she gets the feeling that it's because he knows something they don't. Then again, Grumpy is _never_ in a good mood, hence the nickname.

"Stop chatting, get moving. We have a lot to get through today, so no slacking!"

Though Emma devoured the scripts a few days before coming back to filming, she flicks through them quickly to remind herself what's happening in this scene.

Killian was right, they're so _good_ , it was impossible not to read them. She even found herself neglecting Henry a few times, and forgetting to cook dinner until he reminded her. She had to settle for reading them in the dead of night, all night.

With this new season there are serious developments between Alexander and Rose. There's an 'I love you', and Emma isn't sure how she feels about that. She's already struggling to tell Killian she loves him. Though Rose is only a character, it's still going to feel weird. Mary Margaret was right, she needs to get it out there. She needs to tell him. Especially before they have to film the 'I love you' scene and it makes everything awkward.

But the thing is, she's scared. The last person she said 'I love you' too left, running with her money, landing her in prison. Granted, Neal was a dick and Killian is _not_ Neal, but the idea of loving Killian still shakes her.

He's so _good._ Their relationship the past few months has been blissful. As Mary Margaret called it, they're still in the 'honeymoon' phase. She doesn't know how long that'll last and that terrifies her. She doesn't think she's ever been so scared to tell anyone anything in her life.

"Emma!" Grumpy barks. She jumps. "Back to earth, please. We have a lot to get through today."

Emma and Killian are background characters for this scene; it's more focused on Elizabeth, Elsa's character. She has the biggest subplot at the moment. The next few episodes are going to be about her trying to find herself now that the king is dead; she's going to be struggling with how she should feel - sad that her father is dead, or relieved that he's never coming back?

Emma's sure the relief that Gold has left seeps through their acting.

"Elsa, I want you to kneel down on the grass, okay?' says Grumpy, pointing to a flattened patch of grass. "Remember, I want pure, pure emotion. You've just found out that your father has been taken by the plague. You're distraught. You're guilty. And you're crying a load of tears, yeah?"

"Yes," Elsa says, rolling her eyes.

"KILLIAN!"

Killian doesn't even flinch. He just turns to Grumpy, one eyebrow raised. "Yes?"

"You're not as distraught. You're more relieved, yeah? The death of the king means you can be with _this_ one–" he points to Emma, "–as well as be the king. You don't know how to comfort your sister."

"Aye, aye, Captain," he says with a salute.

Grumpy is not amused. "And for that, I'm going to make this afternoon's sex scene as painful as possible for you."

"When don't you?"

He ignores him and turns to Emma. "Guilt, sister. We want to see guilt here."

She gives a firm nod. "Got it."

"We roll in three. MAKE-UP!" and he disappears off-set.

Then everything is a whirl of people. Cameramen whiz around, setting things up, untangling wires. Emma watches as Killian's make up team touch up his face and apply more gel to his hair. He catches her looking over at him and meets her gaze with a soft smile.

The scene takes forever to film. During it, everyone is weary from the sun and tired of repeating the same lines over and over again. Elsa does an excellent job, crying on command every single time. She gets so into the scene, she can't quite get out of it.

"I'm so sorry," she blubs through great, shoulder-shaking hiccups. "I'll be– okay in a minute."

"Don't worry, Elsa," Grumpy says with a wicked smile. "Killian will cry later when he sees what I've got for him."

Everyone gives unsure laughs. They assume Grumpy is joking by the glint in his eyes and his smile, but they can never be quite sure with Grumpy.

* * *

They find out a few hours before the sex scene they have to film. Emma's heart is fluttering in her chest. She takes deep breaths, trying to calm herself, but it doesn't work. This is the first time she'll do a scene like this since they decided to start up a relationship. Suddenly, it's not just work anymore. It's real. And she doesn't know how she feels about that.

She tries to distract herself by reading a book. It's an old thing she picked up from the props department during their last break—Jane Eyre. She's ashamed to say she's never read it, but better late than never. She's never been a classics person, but surprisingly, she's enjoying it.

"Swan!"

She glances up to see Killian coming towards her, an easy grin on his face, his shirt halfway unbuttoned. She swallows, hard, and forces a smile.

"Killian, hey."

He slides into the chair next to her. "What's that you're reading?"

"Jane Eyre."

"Ah. It's a good one."

She quirks an eyebrow. "You've read it?"

"I, Swan, happen to be a great lover of the classics, believe it or not. Back when we were growing up, they were the only books we could get our hands on. Liam spent many hours reading them aloud to me."

She quirks an eyebrow. "Liam read you… Jane Eyre? Out loud?"

"Aye. Amongst many others."

She chuckles, as her eyes dart back down to her book. "I shouldn't even be reading this. I should be reading the script, rehearsing my lines."

"Well, they're not really lines. More like… noises."

She sighs. She doesn't want to think about that too much. "I'm pretty sure I have lines too."

"I'm more than sure those lines get cut off."

She glances back up at him to see him smirking at her. She rolls her eyes, slowly and deliberately, hoping he'll catch on to her mood and drop it. "Don't remind me."

"What's wrong, Swan? You usually have _no_ problem with–"

" _Shut. Up._ " She hits him with the book across the arm.

His hand flies up to rub the spot as he casts her a wounded look. "Relax. I'm merely joking."

"Look, I am drawing a line right _now._ This is acting, okay? When we go in there, we are Alexander and Rose. When we are _alone,_ we are Emma and Killian. Got it?"

"You'll have nothing but professionalism from me."

She gives him a look. "I hope so."

"Emma, Killian, you're on!" comes Grumpy's voice.

All at once the nerves increase. Grumpy approaches them, a smile on his face. He usually never smiles and it just makes Emma feel even more nervous. He holds a small midnight blue box in his hands. He throws it in front of Killian, who looks up at him.

"What's this?"

Grumpy just continues to smile. "Happy birthday."

"It's not my birthday."

"I wasn't talking to you," he says, his smile growing wider. "I was talking to Emma."

She frowns. "It's not my birthday either."

"No? Well it just might be."

And with that, he turns and stalks back, leaving them to look after him with puzzled expressions on their faces. They both turn to look at the box.

"Open it, then," says Emma.

Killian slowly takes it in his hands and opens it, placing the lid back down on the table, carefully. He stares at it for a moment, blinking, not really understanding, and then realization dawns on his face.

"Bloody hell." He throws the box down on the table.

"What is it?"

She peers inside to see a pink fabric and for the life of her, she can't work out what it is. She frowns at it for a moment.

"It's a sock," he finally says.

"It's bright pink. And… fluffy."

"I thought they were cutting back on the nude scenes."

" _Oh_." And then, despite herself, she giggles. "Well _I'm_ not complaining."

"I bet you're not." He sighs. "I guess that means I better strip off."

He's already unbuttoning his shirt as he stands and kicks his chair under the table. He makes his way off set, and Emma is sure she hears another _bloody hell_ before he disappears completely. She shakes her head and stands, making her way to set. As soon as she gets on, Grumpy corners her.

"Listen, Emma," he begins.

She places her hands on her hips. "Yeah?"

"We're not going to make you do any sex scenes today."

"You're not?"

"No, we're gonna have to cut it short because of Belle's meeting. We are, however, gonna film Killian naked." He flashes her a smile. "You remember the scene?"

"Yeah."

Of course she remembers the scene. It's the one where Rose accidentally runs into Alexander naked on the way to his bath. It's embarrassing for both of them, but it'll be great for the comedic aspects of the show.

"So you just need to get outside his chamber. You're gonna run in and run into him. Speak of the devil." He smirks.

Emma turns around to see Killian walking on set, dressed in a black robe. He isn't smiling. In fact, he has a sober expression.

"Let's get this over with," he growls.

"Don't be moody. Think of the fangirls," says Grumpy.

He approaches Emma.

"The fangirls _are_ gonna love it," she says and he actually gives her a smile. "I thought you'd love it, being naked in front of the camera?"

"There's a lot you don't know about me, love," he says, but it's gentle, and he touches her face. She looks up at him and he leans forward to kiss her, but she steps back. There's only so much public displays of affection she can promise.

The scene goes smoothly enough. Killian strips off his robe to reveal nothing but the sock. Emma tries to keep her eyes off him, she really does, but they're drawn back to him at every given opportunity. She's glad it's just them filming the scene and no-one else.

She can't help but think about how attractive he is. She debates dragging him off to her trailer, but she doesn't think ten minutes will be enough time. She wants hours with him.

"ACTION."

Emma runs on set into the bedchamber. Killian is walking through the chamber to his bath, which steams with hot water. He pretends not to notice her as she runs in.

Emma's gasp turns him around. "Sire!"

"Rose!" he gasps. For a moment he's stood there, mouth open in shock, before he grabs a cushion off the bed. He positions it over his hips. "What– uh– are you doing here?

"CUT!" Grumpy yells. "We need more naked Killian."

 _Yes we do_ , she thinks, as her eyes travel up and down the length of his back. He must feel her gaze because he looks back at her, and raises his eyebrows. She gives him her most innocent expression in response. She thinks they're being discreet until Grumpy gives a very loud cough, and they tear their gazes away from each other, embarrassed. He makes them do the scene another five times until they get it right.

* * *

Fully dressed again, Killian pushes the door open, and Emma walks into the meeting room. Everyone is already there apart from Grumpy and Belle. They all sit around chatting nervously, asking each other if they know what Belle wants. Is it bad? Is it good? No-one seems to know.

She catches sight of Graham who's sat next to Elsa. He gives her a small wave and a bright smile. She makes a beeline for him and grabs the seat next to him.

"Hey, Graham," she says as she tucks herself in. She feels Killian sit down next to her. "Why are you smiling? Aren't you worried about the meeting?"

"To be honest, I'm sure it's nothing to worry about," he says, "I'm sure she'd tell us if it was something to worry about."

"I'm not so sure, mate," says Will, with a grim expression.

"Always the optimist."

They don't have to wait long to find out because mere minutes after Killian and Emma arrive, Belle bursts through the door, carrying paperwork in her arms, Grumpy at her heels. She sets her paperwork on the table with a brief, "Hello everyone," and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.

Emma can't help but notice she doesn't seem like herself. She hasn't even smiled at them, and usually she never stops smiling. She worries her bottom lip between her teeth, as she desperately sorts through the paperwork she hasn't had a chance to organize. She's not wearing one of her usual flow-y dresses, but jeans and a crumpled jumper. When she finally looks up at them all, her face is pale and dark shadows reside under her eyes. It sends a jolt of panic through Emma.

"She does _not_ look good," Elsa whispers from the other side of Graham. "It's bad news. I _knew_ it was bad news."

"Relax," Killian whispers back before Emma has chance to speak. "She's just going through a bad break-up. I've had my fair share of heartbreak to know it when I see it."

Emma wants to agree with him, but she can't shake the feeling that that's not the case at all. She gets the same vibe from Grumpy, who stands next to Belle, arms folded, frowning at nothing.

Emma feels another jolt when Belle opens her mouth to speak.

"I bet you're all wondering why I've brought you here." She gives a laugh but it sounds hollow to Emma's ears. She tries to smile, but it looks thin and stretched across her face. "Nothing to worry about."

"It doesn't _look_ like nothing to worry about," Elsa murmurs out the corner of her mouth. She folds her arms and leans back in her chair.

"But as it turns out, ratings have been… dropping." A confused buzz comes from the actors but Belle continues. "It's been happening for a while. The network informed us halfway through last season, but we were to wait before… changes are made."

"Changes are made?" Killian hisses, dropping his relaxed bravado. "What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?"

"We'd already filmed most things, so it was too late to change anything last season. We thought perhaps the dip in ratings was temporary, and they'd climb back up again, but that was not the case." She takes a shaky breath. Her eyes flicker to Grumpy.

"Don't panic," Grumpy says. "The last thing you wanna do is panic. The thing is, a drop in ratings is normal for a show that's been running as long as we have. That means there's gonna be some changes. Most of you will keep your jobs."

"Hang on, what?" shouts Robin. "What do you mean, 'most of us'?" Emma looks over to see him scowling.

"I'm saying some of you might lose your damn jobs. Do you want me to sugarcoat it? I'm not gonna. I'm going to give it to you straight and I don't give a _damn_ if you're butt hurt over it. That's the way it is in this business. You knew that when you signed the damn contract."

No-one dares to speak again.

"With that in mind," Belle continues, more gently. "Try not to worry. We're working extremely hard to get the ratings up, and to still keep Kings and Queens as the show we all know and love. Changes are going to have to be made, that's just how it works. I don't know what changes exactly-" Her voice falters and she glances over at Grumpy. "Since… since…"

"Since what?" Killian asks, the only one brave enough to speak.

Grumpy is the one who answers him. "We're getting a new head writer, pal. And he has some _very_ big changes in mind."

It's like all the air leaves the room. _A new head writer_ , Emma thinks. What the hell? Belle's their writer. It's always been Belle. No-one can take over her show.

"Again, not to worry," she says. "You'll all meet him next week. He's busy working on the next scripts at the moment."

 _The next scripts?_ He better be something special.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

* * *

Emma approaches Mary Margaret and David's door, scooting to avoid the hanging flower baskets, overflowing with a range of plants Emma hasn't even heard of. Killian fails to avoid one of the smaller ones, and it hits him in the face. Emma doesn't even realise until she hears his hissed, "Bloody hell!"

She turns to see him pushing the flower basket aside with one hand, rubbing his forehead with the other. She can't help it; she giggles. "Killian Jones. Brought down by a flower basket. May his soul rest in peace."

He catches up to her, still rubbing his forehead.

He looks incredibly handsome tonight, in a blue, loosely buttoned shirt, and his leather jacket. Emma herself wears a fitted cream jumper and jeans, with her hair pulled up into a high ponytail. She didn't want to dress up for her closest friends, not when she's running on two hours of sleep due to last night's shoot.

She knocks on the door. It's David who answers.

"Emma!" he says, a grin spreading across his face. "Come on in." He steps aside, and she makes her way into the warmth of the house. She hears his, "Killian, how are you doing?" and the slap of hands meeting.

"I'm great, mate, how are you?"

She doesn't stay to hear David's reply, but heads straight for Mary Margaret, and pulls her into her arms, losing herself in the familiar scent of apple and cinnamon shampoo.

Mary Margaret's words are breathy in her ears as she says, "Have you told him yet?"

"Not yet," Emma breathes back. "Don't you say a word!"

"My lips are sealed."

They break apart and Mary Margaret's gaze falls straight on Killian who stands, a little awkwardly, in the middle of the room. His face immediately lights into a smile.

"Hello, love," he says.

"C'mere you,' she commands teasingly and he closes the distance between them with a few strides. They embrace like old friends, and it makes Emma wonder how many phone conversations they've actually had. Other than the one she knows about, that is.

"How's Hope?" Emma asks, when they finally break apart.

Mary Margaret's hands still linger on Killian's shoulders as she says, "Oh, she's good. She's asleep now, which is a first. She hasn't been sleeping at all recently, has she David?"

"Not a wink," he says. "At least, it doesn't feel like a wink when she wakes us up every few hours. Anyway-" He rubs his hands together. "Can I get you guys a drink? Killian, I bought you some rum this morning after Mary Margaret insisted I do so."

"A glass of rum would be marvellous," Killian says, removing his jacket.

"Emma? Wine?"

"Do you even need to ask?" she says with a smile.

David's responding smile is beaming. "Excellent, I'll get right on that." He takes their coats and disappears off into the kitchen.

Mary Margaret directs them into the living room, and onto the sofa. They talk about how things are going with Hope, and how big she seems to have grown in the last few months. Emma bides her time mentioning the new writer, but when they ask how work's going, she knows there's no scooting around it.

"The thing about that…" she says, crossing one leg over the other. "Things at work are gonna… change."

"Change?" says David, alarmed. "What do you mean?"

Emma and Killian exchange glances. They explain about Belle's meeting, and the drop in ratings. They talk about how the network have decided to appoint a new head writer, who plans to make "big changes", in the words of Grumpy.

"New writer?' says Mary Margaret, thoughtfully.

"Do you know who it is?" David asks.

"Not a damn clue," says Killian, as he drapes an arm around Emma's shoulders. "They won't tell us a thing. We're supposed to be meeting him next week."

"Scary stuff," says David.

Emma nods. "But I'm sure it'll all be okay. I mean, they're probably just going to shake up the storylines a bit, right?" She exchanges another glance with Killian. "But they _did_ say people might lose their jobs."

Killian rubs her arm. "Don't worry, love," he murmurs. "I'm willing to bet my seven bathrooms that your job's safe."

"He's right, Emma," says David. "Have you seen the fan response for Alexander and Rose? I don't know what it is about them, but people go crazy for them. They'll probably get rid of some of the smaller characters to make room for new characters, and keep the main ones. That's what usually happens with a show that runs this long, at least."

Emma's not sure how she feels about that. The smaller actors would be Robin and Will, and she doesn't want to say goodbye to them. The whole cast have become like her family during the past year. She swallows down a wave of sadness.

It's fine, she tells herself. It's all fine. Nothing has been decided yet, and nothing might be decided at all, not in terms of cast. It's fine.

"Anyway," says Mary Margaret, standing up. "I should probably go and check on dinner."

* * *

They have a homemade lasagne for dinner. Mary Margaret has truly outdone herself; it's one of the best lasagnes Emma has ever had. Killian agrees. In fact, he's very vocal about it.

"I have to say this is divine."

"Thank you, Killian," Mary Margaret says, with a glowing smile.

"I chopped the onions," David says quickly.

Killian laughs. "And what beautifully chopped onions they are!"

That makes David smile.

After dinner Emma sneaks away to take a peek at Hope. She's asleep in the nursery upstairs, which is next door to Mary Margaret and David's room.

The first thing she notices when she steps into the room is the most beautiful sunflower yellow which covers the walls. She catches a tiny jumble of white cotton and amber skin through the white bars of the cot.

She approaches the cot, her heart fluttering in her chest, footsteps slow and soft against the carpet.

She appears over the cot and catches sight of Hope. She's seen her a few times before, but never asleep in her own home. She looks so peaceful. Her parents have dressed her in a white onesie, with a small flower on her chest. Her tiny chest moves up and down as she breathes.

She longs to reach out and stroke her cheek, but she's frightened to wake her. She doesn't want to disturb something so innocent, so perfect. She's consumed by peace as she watches her.

And something else. A deep sadness that she missed this part with Henry. She never got to do the late nights. She never got to watch him sleep. It was her own fault and she's made her peace with it, but at the same time, she's lost in thinking about what might have been.

"She's really beautiful, isn't she?" comes a voice from behind her.

She gives a start, and whirls around. Killian stands in the doorway, a slight smile making his lips twitch. He makes his way over to her.

"My apologies, I didn't mean to frighten you."

She gives him a smile. "Don't worry about it."

He comes to a stop beside her and looks down into the cot, a light in his eyes. His hands twitch, as if he longs to reach out and touch her too, but thinks better of it.

"Do you think they'd know if we woke her?" he asks her.

"Yeah, probably."

He takes her hand. "Maybe next time then."

"Maybe next time."

He looks into her eyes and smiles. He brings her hand up and presses a kiss to it. She can't contain her smile as she watches him do it. And for a moment they stand, smiling at each other.

* * *

They share a cab home. Killian suggested his limo but Emma would rather die than jump in a limo to go around the corner. A limo is more likely to attract attention than a cab.

They say their goodbyes to Mary Margaret and David, exchanging kisses and embraces before they step out into the summer night.

When the cab pulls up outside Emma's house, she decides to chance a kiss. It's brief and sweet and it doesn't _quite_ hit the spot, but it'll do. She can't invite him in because she knows he'll end up staying the night. Part of her thinks she should invite him in - Henry's staying at Regina's, so she knows she could use his absence to her advantage - but they have to be up early tomorrow and if he comes in, they won't sleep for hours.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Swan," he says.

She gives him one last smile before she jumps out the cab and slams the door behind her. She runs up to her door and turns just in time to see the cab drive off.

…

The next week is a tense one. Everyone is awaiting the arrival of the new writer. Every scene that Emma films feels tense. Even downtime between scenes is tense. No-one quite knows how to bring the new writer up in conversation, and no one really wants to.

But it becomes unavoidable when Belle arranges a meeting for them one day during work.

Everyone makes their way into the meeting room, the air thick with tension. No-one talks to each other, but Emma imagines that's because no-one knows what to say.

Someone takes her hand. It's soft and warm and for a moment, Emma is confused - this doesn't feel like Killian's hand. But when she looks up, she's looking into Elsa's eyes, and they're dark and worried. Their arms brush. Emma squeezes her hand.

'Don't worry about it,' she whispers. 'It'll be okay.'

Elsa gives her a small smile. Emma knows what she's thinking. She's frightened of losing her job. The network was already going to cut Graham's character from the show last season. That was if the scripts hadn't been leaked and there had been a fan uproar about Graham. Emma didn't think it would have been a smart move, herself. Graham was a fan favourite. They saved themselves a drop in ratings.

They take their seats. Belle is already in the room. She's stood next to Grumpy, and they talk in hushed conversation, heads bowed. A small man stands next to them. He has a rat-like face and thick, black eyebrows. He smiles at people as they walk in, but Emma doesn't buy it. Not for one second. She wonders if he's the new writer.

Emma looks around, wondering where Killian is. She hasn't seen him since their scene this morning, but she knows he had a scene with Robin this afternoon. She catches sight of Robin at the table in front of her, and her eyebrows pull together. She leans forward, tapping him on the shoulder. He turns.

"Yeah?"

"Have you seen Killian?"

Robin chortles. "Yeah, last I left him, he was struggling to get out of his costume. They've given him even more layers this year. I'm sure he'll be back soon."

"Right. Thanks."

That makes her feel a bit easier. She settles back in her chair, folding her arms, though her eyes still flicker to the door. Elsa fidgets next to her. It's like she can't sit still. She brushes her hair out of her eyes, she taps her fingers on the table. Emma almost snaps at her to _stop_ _it_ , but then she remembers she's on edge. They all are.

Belle steps forward, hands clasped in front of her. Emma can't help but notice that she seems just as haggard as she had before. She's deathly pale. Maybe she's sick, Emma thinks.

She clears her throat, but no-one notices except for Emma. They're all too wrapped up in their own conversations, or too busy watching the stranger in the room. She gives another small cough, but it's no use. After a moment, Grumpy coughs loudly, and everyone jumps. The mumbling dies down as they fix their eyes on Belle and Grumpy.

"Okay, so, hello everyone. I hope you've had a good first few weeks of filming," Belle begins. There's a rasp to her voice, like she's on the verge of crying. She clears her throat again and offers a warm and comforting smile. "I trust you've been working hard. But I didn't call you in to discuss your performances." She pauses and there isn't a sound in the room. Emma's eyes flicker over to the door again. _Where is Killian?_ "We're here because I'd like to introduce you to our new writer. Isaac Heller **.** "

Belle gestures to Isaac and he gives a small wave. His smile is slow, like a cat who's got the cream. Emma holds back a shudder.

"Now, you're going to be seeing a lot of Isaac in the next few weeks. He'll be around set, so feel free to get to know him." She pauses to give another one of those bright Belle smiles, though it doesn't quite reach her eyes. "I know Isaac wants to say a few words." She turns to him. "Do you want to take it from here?"

He nods and Belle steps back. He steps forward. He's still wearing that grin.

"Hello, everyone," he says. Emma narrows her eyes. There's something about his voice that she doesn't like. It makes her skin crawl. "Like Belle has said, I'm the new head writer. What she failed to mention was that I'm also the producer, showrunner and director. The network has decided to give me this job in order to…" He pauses, his smile widening. "Work alongside the others to find out why the show has had a sudden drop in… ratings. I've been working on the new scripts. Don't worry, you will still film as normal, with the scenes that you have already rehearsed. However-"

The door flies open.

"Bloody hell, I'm sorry."

Killian runs in. His shirt is crumpled, like he's just thrown it on, and his hair sticks up in all directions. He's carrying his rucksack. He must have run halfway across set, Emma realises.

"Sorry mate," he says, as he crosses the room. He holds his free hand up and nods in a sincere apology.

Isaac looks at him, blinking slowly. "Killian Jones, is it?"

"The one and only." A few people in the room laugh, including Emma.

"Take a seat, Mr. Jones." Killian nods in thanks and sits next to Emma. He only just relaxes when Isaac says, "And don't be late again."

 _Okay?_ thinks Emma. Killian is never late for anything, especially not meetings. It's a one time thing. She takes his hand and squeezes gently. He smiles at her with soft eyes.

"As I was saying," Isaac continues. "You'll work as normal up until I give you the new scripts. Myself and the other writers have been working very hard on them." He pauses to give a wide, slow smile. "You might find they're a little different to what you're used to - we've had to make big changes - but hopefully they'll be to your satisfaction. I wasn't appointed head writer for no good reason." He gives a chuckle that no-one else returns. Everyone just stares at him in stony silence. "With that being said, you should probably - uh - all get back to work." He steps back and gestures for Belle to come forward again.

She offers him a generous smile and steps before them. She tries to smile reassuringly at them, but everyone gives her the same expression as Isaac. As Emma looks around at everyone, she can see they're thinking the same thing as her: _Who the hell is this guy?_

"Okay, so give it up for Isaac, everyone." There's a weak clap, Belle included. Emma is one of the many who don't clap. "So you know what that means? That means you better get cracking. We've been a bit behind on filming these last few weeks, but with a bit of hard work and dedication I'm sure we-"

" _Actually_ -" Isaac says quietly, stepping behind her, giving her a gentle push to the side. "I wasn't quite done talking. I forgot to mention about the new actors."

"Right," says Belle as she rights herself, disgruntled. "Right. My apologies. Go on, then."

"We'll be getting a whole bunch of new actors, including someone else to join the main cast. We thought these bright, new faces might bring something fresh to the show. You will all be meeting them within the next few weeks when you get the new scripts. Until then, happy working."

He steps back and allows Belle to come forward again, though her own words come out stunted and embarrassed as she tries to continue her point. It puts Emma on edge. She'd never seen Belle like this. It just leaves her with an even worse feeling in her chest. If this is what it's like now, what's it going to be like in a few weeks when all the changes happen?

She shudders to think.

* * *

Killian grabs her after the meeting. She walks past the trailers, on her way to make-up for the second time today. The sun beats down on the back of her neck. She casts her eyes to the ground to avoid the sun, to the faded yellow grass.

They're supposed to be going in their separate directions to film, so she's surprised when she feels his gentle touch on her arm, and even more surprised when she realises it's _his_ touch without even turning around.

"What's up?" she asks.

"I've been meaning to ask you something."

"Yeah?"

He pulls her inbetween two of the trailers. She allows herself to be led, knowing he must not want to be overheard. It's cool in the shade, a nice relief from the unforgiving sun. She looks up at him, but he doesn't speak. He just gazes down at her. A piece of his hair falls out of place over his forehead, puckered as he searches for the right words.

"What's up?" she asks.

"Gooutwithme."

She laughs. "What?"

"I said…" He draws in a deep, shaky breath. "Will you go out with me?"

"Are we not out now?"

She makes a show of looking around, gesturing to the outdoors, stumped, but he's not in the mood for her games. He just shakes his head, his throat bobbing up and down.

"You know that's not what I mean. Please, love. Answer me before I die."

She frowns at him. "Are you nervous?"

Why would Killian Jones be nervous to ask her out? They've been carpooling for the last few weeks. He's been her boyfriend for even longer. They've kissed on his porch. She spends endless nights with him and he with her, without even batting an eyelid. Why the sudden show of nerves?

"No." He scratches behind his ear, his tongue jutting out to smooth over his lower lip. "Actually, yes. I was afraid you might say no."

"Why?"

"What are we doing here, Emma?"

She tilts her head. "What?"

"I confess, I don't know what we're doing here."

"What do you mean?"

She tries to watch him, to gauge his reaction, but he doesn't meet her eyes. It's so unlike Killian. It's usually she who has trouble with eye contact.

"We take each other's cars to work, yes. We've spent many a night together, yes, but what are we doing?"

"You're acting like you've never asked me out on a date before."

"That's because I haven't."

Emma frowns. No… Surely, that's not true. He's asked her out before, she's sure of it. At least they've _been_ out, haven't they? As a couple? Haven't they?

"We've been on dates."

He finally meets her eyes. "Are you counting rehearsals? Because if you're counting quiet dinners, we wouldn't even get one."

A wave of guilt surges through her. No, they wouldn't. They wouldn't even get one. She shakes off the feeling and gives him a small, teasing smile, bouncing on her heels.

"So… where are we going, then? For our quiet date, I mean."

Just like that the awkwardness is gone, and a smile breaks out on his face. She forgot how much his eyes sparkle when he smiles like that.

"Mm, I'll think on it. I know a few places. I'll pick you up tomorrow? Say, eight?"

"Sounds perfect."

He leans forward and this time she lets him, until his nose brushes hers and finally, his lips. She basks in his kiss, all her worries gone, the only thing she can feel for him, utter and complete love.

And she plans to tell him. Tomorrow night.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading everyone! Sorry I took so long; life's been a bit busy. But I'm a few chapters ahead so you'll get the next chapter soon! Let me know what you think!**


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

* * *

It takes Emma far too long to get ready for her date. She's never been too bothered about her appearance, but tonight she spends hours in front of the mirror trying to make herself look perfect. She's already applied winged eyeliner, but she's not sure about the lipstick. Red lipstick might make her lips far more kissable, but it isn't really practical to wear for a meal. Especially since Emma is planning to order the ribs and she's already starving.

For food, or for Killian? She does not know.

She curls her hair. It's her favourite way to wear it, but it always takes too damn long. But the hours spent in front of the mirror tonight are totally worth it, as long as she receives that jaw-dropping expression she longs to see.

She decides on a backless dress. The idea is to seduce, and she's certainly on the right track. It's red, skin tight, and doesn't leave much to the imagination. She matches it with red heels, and decides to go with the lipstick.

 _What the hell_ , she thinks. She applies it generously.

"Mom, wow," Henry says, watching her as she emerges out of the bathroom, heels clicking against the wooden flooring. "You look amazing."

"Thanks." She swipes her purse from where she'd left it on the sofa. "When's Regina coming?"

"She should be here any minute."

Sure enough, the doorbell rings. Henry rushes to get it returns to the living room with Regina at his heels. She looks exhausted; eyes red-rimmed and face colourless. There's a dusting of flour on her black skirt. She must have been working all day at the pie shop.

She does a double take when she sees Emma.

"You clean up nice. Killian won't be able to keep his eyes off you," she says. "Hopefully he'll stop drooling long enough to eat something."

"Thanks." She rolls her eyes, but she struggles to keep the smile off her face. Compliments from Regina are few and far between, as rare as diamonds. She needs to take when she can get them. She turns to Henry. "Go get your stuff, kid."

"Sure, mom!"

He runs off up the stairs.

Regina crosses the room in a matter of strides and lowers her voice. "I take it you don't want me to bring Henry back… tonight?"

She does her best not to blush. "Probably for the best."

"Be careful, Emma." Her lips curl into a slow, cat-like smile. "The media would have a field day if a baby Swan came on the scene."

Emma gave her a look. "I'm not gonna get pregnant, Regina."

"I know. I'm saying just… be careful."

"I'm not some teenager."

"I know. But still."

Emma shakes her head with another eyeroll, but drops it. Regina means well. It's best to take her advice with a pinch of salt and a smile, and let her get on with it.

Henry comes back into the room, a rucksack slung over his shoulders. He encases Emma in a long, almost bone-crushing hug before he leaves, and tells her to have a great time. She gives a final wave of farewell as he exits the house with Regina.

They close the door behind them and then it's just her. Alone. In the house. Waiting for Killian.

Her heart jolts inside her chest. She places a hand over it, hoping to calm herself, but it doesn't work. She tries to busy herself by checking her purse and then checking again. She re-curls a few strands of hair, reapplies her lipstick and spritzes herself with perfume.

Finally, after what seems like hours, the doorbell rings. Her heart gives another one of those uncomfortable jolts. She jumps up from the sofa, grabs her purse, and leaps across the room. She grabs her shawl from the peg in the hallway. Before she knows it, before she can stop herself - or allow herself to chicken out - she's pulling the door open and there, in front of her, stands Killian Jones.

Her jaw drops. He looks gorgeous. Well, he always looks gorgeous, but this night is certainly no exception. He wears a purple shirt unbuttoned down to reveal the length of his neck and his collarbone. Her eyes linger too long on the skin, pale beneath the porch lights and rapidly darkening sky.

"You look-" she begins.

"I know. And _you_ look-"

"I know."

They smirk at each other. And then Killian extends a hand which she takes, swallowing down her fear and her neves.

* * *

 **Killian**

* * *

Killian takes them to a restaurant where he's sure they won't be spotted. It's a quaint little place, with red bricks and fairy lights all the way around the outside. It isn't flashy or too expensive, which he hopes Emma will appreciate. When it comes to money and fame, she's a simple woman. She doesn't do well with grand, flashy gestures. Graham should have learned that— he saw where _he_ took her on her date.

But that's neither here nor there. He and Graham have buried the hatchet, so to speak. Killian no longer thinks about gouging out his eyes, or accidentally slicing off his hand when they're rehearsing with swords, but instead, offers him polite smiles whenever he sees him.

Emma appreciates that too, he's sure.

To his relief, Emma mentions that she adores the restaurant. Not because it's flashy - again, he's not that type of man and Emma isn't that type of woman - but because it has a warm feeling. It reminds him of home, of that quaint little English town he and his brother grew up in. It reminds him of his mother.

All of this he keeps to himself, of course.

After being led to a table by a young waiter, he takes Emma's shawl. She didn't bother with a coat, knowing it's too hot for one even at this time of night, but instead went with a red shawl that matches the beautiful design she's wearing tonight.

And truly, it is a sight to behold. The front of it closely follows the curve of her waist and hips. Strappy sleeves give him view of her sculpted arms. Then she turns and he sees that it is, indeed, backless. That's when his knees go weak.

He struggles for something to say for the next fifteen minutes.

If he had gone with what his heart wanted, he probably could have dragged her back into her house, locked the door behind them and stuffed the bloody restaurant.

Alas, he is a gentleman. And he wants this date with Emma more than she can know.

They order a bottle of red for the table, and the service is fast enough. He pours them both glasses and takes a slow, long sip. He needs all the courage for tonight.

Because tonight is the night he's going to tell her he loves her.

"What are you thinking about?" Emma asks as she browses the menu.

 _You,_ he almost says, but then he realises she's referring to the food, and he hasn't even opened the menu yet. He was too busy watching her, the way she tucks her hair behind her ear, the way she sucks on her ruby red lip. Gods, he wants to kiss her.

 _Stop it,_ he scolds himself. He needs to be on his best behaviour tonight. He is nothing but patient with Emma, and he knows that if all goes well he will get to kiss her endlessly tonight. Amongst other things.

"I might have pasta," he says, as he opens his menu.

"You're an Italian man, huh?"

"I've always had a weak spot for Italian. I love pizza but you Americans don't quite do it like the Italians do. It's poor in comparison."

"Hey!" She glances up at him and he's stunned by her beauty. She's smiling, her cheeks dimpling. "I resent that."

"I'm merely being honest. Isn't honesty the best policy in a relationship?"

"Unless we're talking about pizza."

He goes for a mushroom pasta that sounds exquisite and she goes for the ribs. They bring her a little bowl of lemon water and napkins prior to the meal, and Killian tops up their wine glasses.

"You look stunning tonight, Swan." The wine is already loosening his tongue. Perhaps he should go slower, but he can already feel that comfortable buzz humming through his veins. And Emma doesn't seem to be slowing down either. Tonight, they're going to enjoy themselves.

"I try. Sometimes."

"You're beautiful all the time."

"Even at four A.M. after two hours sleep and no-make up?"

"Even then."

That makes her laugh. And soon they're laughing and joking together, all the way through the first course. Killian hardly has time to eat; he's too busy chuckling and listening to her. That is, until something serious is brought up.

"What changes do you think Isaac will make?"

"I have no idea." He can feel his own face darken. He watches as she dips the end of a chip in barbecue sauce. "Though, it doesn't sound good."

"Grumpy mentioned something about jobs being cut."

"I know."

"Do you think my job's safe? I mean, I've only been on a year."

"Definitely." He swallows a piece of pasta, nodding. "You're a fan favourite. You have nothing to worry about, love. They adore you. More importantly, they adore you and I, so my job is safe too."

She snorts. "That's a bit presumptuous."

"I happen to be a fan favourite too. Belle would be insane to get rid of me. Or you. But mostly me," he adds with a teasing smile. She indulges him with a smile of her own.

Then a frown takes over her face. "I don't think it would be Belle making the decision. I'm guessing that Belle has little say on the new changes. That Isaac - whoever he is - wants to take over."

"He doesn't like me."

"You don't think?"

Killian nods. He'd sensed it when he was late. Granted, he shouldn't have been late but it wasn't his fault. He had a costume emergency.

He's always had a good eye or those who don't like him, something he's learned from being an actor. It helps him whittle out the false friends and fake smiles, those who want to use his name to get into a VIP club. He could tell from the moment he laid eyes on Isaac. He could feel the waves of dislike rolling off him.

"It happens sometimes," he tells Emma. "The thing is, with being in the public eye, people have their own views of us. Some people think I'm God's gift to Earth. You know about my Tumblr blog, don't you?" He'd shown her his Tumblr blog sometime last year and he remembers her being shocked by it. "Well, I see a lot of posts on there about the actors, including me. Comments on my hair, on my face, cropped photos of my eyes. Some people are ready to defend me no matter what. They claim I'm the nicest man on earth, and those who have met me back it up."

"Seriously? I've heard you should avoid the online world."

"Me too." He chuckles. "Seriously, some people think I can do no wrong. Others, however… Others hate me, even though they've never met me. They make posts about how I don't know how to answer questions at conventions, or that I answer too much and don't let anyone else speak. Some people say I'm arrogant-"

"They've got that right, then."

"-Others say I've a string of lovers. I suppose they don't know. For all they know, I could." She looks up at him sharply and he gives her a smile. "But of course, that's not true. If they knew me they'd know I'm-" _Falling-_ "I'm-" _Have fallen-_ "I'm-" _In love with-_ "Hopelessly devoted to you."

She tilts her head. "Isn't that a Grease song?"

"What can I say? I have a deep passion for musicals."

"I would never have guessed."

"Remind me to dig out my Cats merchandise when you're next around my house."

She laughs. "Noted."

They order dessert. Killian decides on a sticky toffee pudding and Emma goes for a lemon cheese cake. They're in the middle of feeding each other off each other's spoons when they hear a cough next to them. Mouth full of lemon-y goodness, Killian turns to see a young girl, no older than sixteen, holding a piece of paper in her shaking hands.

A fan. On their date.

"Y-you're Killian Jones," the girl says, trembling.

Killian swallows his mouthful of cheesecake.

"Aye, that I am. And who am I speaking to?"

"Hannah," she says in her tremble-y voice. She turns to Emma, fixing her with a wide eyed stare. "A-and you're Emma Swan."

She nods, but doesn't say anything. Both women are paralysed, staring at each other. Killian can't help the flicker of annoyance he feels at this girl's appearance. He should be enjoying a quiet dinner with Emma, not entertaining the public. Couldn't she see they were busy?

But if he were in her shoes and it was Angelina Jolie…

He gives her his best charming grin. "Hannah, come closer. I take it you want an autograph?"

She nods and thrusts her tremble-y paper towards Killian. He takes it and flattens it out on the table. That's when he realises it's a bit of napkin from the restaurant, and his heart softens. She's still watching him with those big, frightened eyes. She looks like she's going to burst into tears any moment.

"This won't do!" He holds up the flimsy napkin and it flops. "Excuse me," he calls to a passing waitress. "Do you have a piece of paper I could have? Your napkins are quality standard, but not so wonderful for autographs."

She disappears to get him a piece of paper.

"I love you on Kings and Queens," Hannah breathes to both of them. "You're my favourite characters. I squealed when you kissed for the first time." She gasps and covers her mouth when she realises her words.

"So did I," Killian says, giving her a wink. The girl blushes.

The waitress returns with a piece of paper.

"Do you have a pen, love?" he asks the girl.

She nods and hands a shaky pen over. He sighs, _To Hannah. A pleasure to meet you. Enjoy your meal, love._

Emma signs too. She softens too when the girl turns her attention to her. In theory, they _should_ be annoyed, but she's so sweet with her big eyes and shaking hands.

"You're even more beautiful in real life," she gushes to Emma who blushes, and signs the piece of paper.

"Don't I know it," Killian murmurs to himself.

With a thank you, and a shaky wave, the girl turns and disappears back to her own table. She's with her mother in the corner. They both watch them. Killian gives them a wave before he turns back to Emma. She breathes out a sigh he didn't realise she was holding.

"Still haven't got used to the fans," she whispers. "It still shocks me."

"They're harmless enough. Some are… strange, but most are fine. Like Hannah. She was sweet."

"I can't fault her," Emma says. "I would have done the same with Robert Downey Jr."

He scoffs. "I didn't think he was your type."

"Jealous, Killian?" She smirks, actually smirks at him, and he shakes his head, smiling.

"Perhaps I am." He pauses to take a sip of his wine. "But everything will be fine."

"And why is that?"

"He'll be past it in a couple of years anyway and you'll come crawling back to me."

Emma laughs and takes a sip of her own wine, staining the rim of her glass with red. "Do you _really_ think I'm that shallow? If looks were a factor in relationships, you wouldn't have stood a chance. Tall, dark _and_ handsome? Not my type."

He smirks. "Is that what this is? A relationship?" He tries to keep his voice neutral- he hopes it doesn't tremble or falter.

"What else is it?"

"Well I _have_ met David and Mary Margaret and I'm sure that counts as meeting the parents, judging by how protective David is over you." Then he drops his joking tone, mouth dry as he realises that now is the time. It's now or never. "Actually, Emma-" _I love you._ "The thing is, I-"

"Listen, Killian, there's something I want to tell you."

He frowns, losing his train of thought.

Losing his courage.

He looks up at her. She's not looking at him. Her glassy, wide eyes are fixed on her lipstick- stained glass in front of her and if Killian isn't mistaken, he's sure he can see her cheeks tinge pink. That's when Killian realises she's going to tell him the same thing.

 _Don't be stupid, Killian,_ he scolds himself. _How could you possibly know that?_

Intuition, maybe? For one insane moment he's willing to bet his three cars, seven bathrooms _and_ pool on it. He leans back in his chair, trying to relax his shoulders, trying to keep his breathing easy. He quirks an eyebrow.

"Yes?"

"It's just that I-" Her eyes flicker up to his.

And he _knows._ His mouth twitches into a smile. "That you…"

And then just like that her face changes and she shakes her head. "That I want to _thank_ you for a lovely meal." His face falls and she rushes on to say, "It was great. Seriously it was. Thank you for our _date._ " She reaches across the table for his hand and he lets her take it. She squeezes it.

He musters his best smile, trying not to let his disappointment show. "Aye, love. I had a lovely time too."

After all, he has all the time in the world to tell her he loves her.

They finish their desserts and Killian asks for the cheque. It comes on a little tray with two white round mints, and they pop them in their mouths. Emma offers - as he knew she would - to pay at least half, but he retorts with a quick comeback that confirms she has offended him and his _entire_ family.

"Pretty sure you only have a brother." She's quick.

He pays the cheque and they call a cab to get home.

Killian grabs Emma's shawl from where it had been folded over her chair. He steps behind her and drapes it over her shoulders, brushing his nose against her hair as he does so. She smells divine. He presses a kiss to her ear and she giggles, stepping out of his arms.

She takes his hand as they walk out of the restaurant. It sends a warm feeling all throughout his body and he can't stop smiling. For once, he feels content. Happier than he has in so long.

He nods his thanks to the waitress as they pass through the door. She grins in response - clearly she's happy with the tip he gave her. They step out into the night air. It's still warm, even though it's nearing eleven, but a light breeze lifts their hair.

Killian rubs Emma's shoulder. "Can you see the-" He catches Emma's expression. "What's wrong?" She stares straight ahead, lips thin, eyes cold. He follows her gaze to where a group of people, some holding cameras, others holding microphones, reside.

"How did they know we were here?" she hisses.

"Relax." He rubs her shoulder again. "It's just the media. Ignore them. Don't even look at them. Don't answer any of their questions."

She nods, though her expression is still stony. It's then that Killian realises she probably hasn't brushed shoulders with the media too often. Last year she was just getting known; she was less likely to be recognised. This year, however…

"Do you want my hand?" he whispers.

She shakes her head. He feels a pang go through him, but he tries not to take it too personally. Emma has made it very clear how she feels about public displays of affections, especially in the eye of the media. That's why she never allows him to kiss her properly on set.

She begins to walk, her shoes clicking against the concrete. Killian follows as she walks down the steps. He keeps his head down, but he can see them out the corner of his eyes, the way their faces snap towards him, the way they snap to Emma. The hunger in their eyes makes him feel almost sorry for them. He can think of a million other things to do on a summer night rather than spend time, crouched in the bushes, waiting for people to emerge from their meal so they can ambush them.

"Killian," a man calls. "Killian Jones!"

"Emma Swan!" another man calls. "You look beautiful."

Killian sees her tense in front of him, but she doesn't stop walking. He can feel flashes around them. They'll be front page news tomorrow.

"Guys, you look great," a woman calls. Killian can only see a blur of dark hair and glasses. "Is is true you guys are dating?

"Killian, are you taking Emma out on a date?"

"What can you tell us about the new season?"

"I don't know, mates," Killian says, shaking his head. He manages a smile but struggles to keep his voice polite. "It's top secret."

"Are you happy to be a series regular, Emma?"

Her shoulders tense even more at the mention of her name, but she keeps moving, head down, one foot in front of the other. He resists the urge to place a hand on the small of her back, knowing his touch would will calm her, but at the same time, making the paparazzi go wild. It's best to keep a low profile.

"Is it true you have a new head writer?"

"Are you dating?"

"What about the new season?"

The questions come faster and Killian hardly has time to process one before another one comes hurling at him. He doesn't plan to answer them - apart from with vague non-answers, anyway - but the jumble of words make his head spin. He tries to keep his head down.

"Did you enjoy your date?"

"Do you think you'll battle any dragons this season?"

" _Are you dating?"_

Killian opens the cab door. He lets Emma get in first, and watches her slide across the seat into the darkness. She visibly relaxes once she's submerged within the leather seats and tinted windows.

"Sidney Glass, here. Is there really _nothing_ you can tell The Mirror about the new season?" says a black man with a deep voice, and curly coal hair.

Killian looks right at him and gives him the biggest grin he can. "It's going to be amazing," he says, before he too disappears into the car, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

Emma spends most of the cab ride tense, unmoving, rigid as a stone. Killian takes her hand, rubbing his thumb along her fingers and she seems to untense after that.

They remain holding hands as they make their way up the steps to her house. She rummages in her purse for her keys. It's only when she shoves the key into the lock that Killian realises she's shaking.

"Hey," he says, softly. She doesn't listen. She just pushes open the door open and drags herself inside.

He closes the door behind him, watching her as she kicks her heels off and shoves them to the side of the hallway. She uses the same hurried movements as she removes her shawl and throws it into the living room, onto the sofa.

"Hey," he says again. He crosses the room and takes her shoulders, hoping to help somehow. She struggles, trying to get out of his grasp, but he just holds on tighter. " _Hey._ Emma. Love. Look at me."

She struggles for a second more before giving up and reluctantly meeting his eyes. Hers are frantic, darting around the room. He places his hands on either side of her face to bring her focus back to him. She does and relaxes in his arms.

"Is that the first time that's happened?"

She nods.

"I'm surprised. You honestly haven't been mauled by the paparazzi before?"

"No."

He strokes her cheek. "It's okay. It's normal. They're just trying to get as much information out of us as possible. That's why they ask so many questions."

She nods. Killain is sure if she was feeling like herself, she'd roll her eyes, nudge him and tell him _of course_ she knows that, everyone knows that. The fact that she doesn't worries him a little. He presses a kiss to the top of her head, feeling her soft hair brush against his lips.

"Are you alright now?"

"I'm fine, Killian."

He goes to drop his hands, but she grabs one with both her own. She's no longer shaking; her grip is soft but steady. She turns his hand around and presses a kiss to his palm before releasing him.

"I'm fine," she repeats. "It just freaked me out, that's all."

"It won't be the last time it happens."

"I know."

They look at each other for a moment. And then, "Do you know what you need?"

Emma gives him a look, sending a wave of relief over him. "What do I need?"

"A bloody good drink."

He disappears into the kitchen, smiling when he feels her follow him. He heads straight to the cupboard and pulls out two wine glasses, setting them on the kitchen counter.

"So what have you got?" He opens the cupboard.

"Wine."

"No rum?" He gives her a wounded expression.

"No one here drinks it."

"That's not necessarily a bad thing. It just means I'll have to stay here more often, doesn't it?"

He catches her incredulous expression when he throws her a look over his shoulder. He pours wine into the two glasses, a white one he found in the fridge. It's not his favourite, but some alcohol is better than no alcohol in his opinion. He hands her a glass which she accepts, taking a generous sip.

She seems much more relaxed now. She watches him over the rim of her glass, eyes sparkling, hair glimmering in the spotlights. Her hair looks beautiful tonight. She's curled it, and he can see all the different tones of gold shimmering under the light. When he looks back into her face, he can see she's smirking.

"What?" he asks.

"I'm sorry."

He sets his own glass on the side and leans against the kitchen counter, folding his arms, quirking an eyebrow. "For what?"

"I had intended to… seduce you." She runs her finger along the rim of her glass, still smirking at him. "I guess I just got scared. Not an attractive image. I suppose we'll have to cuddle up on the sofa and watch a movie or something."

He quirks the other eyebrow. "The night is still young."

"I guess."

"And you know you don't _need_ to seduce me. Just say the word. However, if that gorgeous backless dress was an attempt, I'm certainly _not_ complaining."

She takes another slow sip of wine and crosses the room. She places her glass on the kitchen counter, just shy of his own, and peers up at him through her eyelashes. It's _definitely_ a seduction attempt, and he doesn't mind _one bit._

"Henry's…"

"With Regina," she confirms.

He nods. He's glad. There was that one occasion when he walked in on the two of them… well, Killian can't remember _exactly_ what they were doing, but he knows it isn't a sight for a teenage boy to see. Not the teenage boy of the woman in question, that is.

Emma trails a finger down his chest. He swallows, not as discreetly as he would have liked. She smiles innocently up at him, and it makes his knees go weak.

 _Bloody hell._

He places his hands on her waist and pulls her closer so she's flush against him, leaning down to press his lips to hers. But before he can get there, his path is blocked by her finger.

"Maybe we shouldn't…" she says, though he knows at once she's teasing him. "We _do_ have work tomorrow."

"Do we? I'd forgotten about that." He kisses her cheek. "Do we really _have_ to go in?" He presses another kiss to her cheek.

She laughs. "You shouldn't be late again."

"I'm never late." His kisses move down her cheek to her jaw. He slows them down, kissing slow and soft up her jaw. He nudges her ear with his nose. She trembles and he knows he's got her. "I'm a professional," he whispers into her ear.

"Are you?" she manages to get out. If that's the best comeback she can think of, he's _definitely_ got her. His kisses dip down her neck, where the skin is softer. One of his hands trails up her back and she trembles again

"You're already on Isaac's bad side." Her voice is breathless.

"Darling, _please,_ don't think about Isaac while I'm kissing you."

"I'll just think of Robert Downey Jr instead."

He chuckles into her neck, shaking his head. She's impossible, but that's why he loves her. He presses an open-mouthed kiss to her collarbone and her head falls back. It's then that he realises she's pressed against the kitchen counter, but he has no recollection of how they got there.

"Oh, _Robert."_

"You're not funny." Though he's chuckling. He looks back up at her, face inches away from hers. Their noses brush.

"You're just gonna have to make me forget all about Robert Downey Jr."

"Is that a challenge?"

"Maybe." She raises her eyebrows.

He only sees one last smirk before he kisses her, one hand in her hair, pushing her against the counter. And with that, he manages to find the zip of her dress, just below her back. Yes, he'll make her forget _entirely_ about Robert Downey Jr.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! I've just realised I have eight chapters of this already written and I completely forgot. So expect another chapter really soon! What did you think?**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

* * *

It's not the light that wakes Emma up, even though it pours through the room, spilling out onto the floor. It's not the birds chirping, though they're loud enough to wake the whole street. And it's not the heat, though the room is stifling in the summer morning.

It's the continuous vibrations of her phone against the beside table. Still half asleep, she reaches blindly for it, fumbling on the surface. Eventually she manages to grab it, swipes it, and brings it up to her ear. It's warm.

"Mmm… 'lo?"

"Emma fucking Swan, where the fuck are you?" booms Grumpy from the other end of the line. She jumps, but it does the job - it wakes her up.

She sits up, pulling the covers with her, wrapping them around her chest. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about how you haven't shown up for work and you were supposed to film _an hour ago._ Now we're so behind. We need you _now._ Where are you?" His voice trembles with anger and Emma trembles with it.

"I- uh-" Her eyes find the clock on the bedside table. It's 9:00. She's three hours late for work. _Shit._ "I am so sorry."

"Are you at home?"

"Yeah, I slept in?" She's not sure what else to say. She knows he won't believe anything else she says though as soon as the words leave her mouth, she can think of a million other excuses. She could be sick, she could have a family emergency with Henry. Her car could have broken down. The possibilities are endless.

"Thought so." His words are still cutting. They make Emma wince. "Killian with you?"

Emma looks over at Killian's form. He's laid on his front, giving her full view of his back, his head is turned away from her, the covers hardly covering him - except where it counts. She's surprised he hasn't woken up due to Grumpy's shouting, but he's dead to the world.

"Uh… no?"

"Don't lie to me. I saw the paper this morning - you were out on a date last night. Do me a favour and save the fucking for when you're off, okay?"

She hears Belle's gasp of, "Leroy! You can't say that!" from the other end of the line.

Emma opens her mouth to speak but he's still going at it. "I can say what I like. It's like working with teenagers."

"You can't speak to them like that," Belle continues, her voice muffled. "What they do outside of work is none of your bus-"

"It is if it's holding us up." To Emma, he spits, "Get ready. Have showers, do whatever. Just get here within the hour, for God's sake."

He hangs up without saying goodbye and Emma is left to stare at the phone with a slightly open mouth. She throws it across the bed, frightened it might bite her. Or worse, in case Grumpy rings again. She shakes her head, trying to shake away the embarrassment, but it doesn't work.

"Killian," she says, horrified.

He doesn't move; he doesn't even make a noise.

" _Killian._ "

Silence.

She throws a cushion at his head. " _Killian,_ get up. God's sake."

Like a statue coming to life, he groans. "Good morning to you too," he murmurs into the pillow, his voice thick with sleep. She watches as he uses his arms to hitch himself up, the muscles in his back quivering as he does so.

He turns to face her. His mouth is faintly stained with her lipstick, as is his neck and his shoulder. She touches her fingertips to her own mouth, knowing she probably mirrors him.

"You need to get up," she says.

"But I'm _exhausted._ "

"Killian-"

"Shh, I'm blissfully happy. I could melt into the bed. I could never move again. In fact, I think I might not." He closes his eyes. "Why aren't you? Last night was-"

"I don't care. Get _up._ "

"You're killing my buzz."

She throws another pillow at his head. "This isn't a joke. Look at the time."

His eyes travel lazily from her face to the clock beside her. His eyes widen when he takes in the time. He sits up, the bed groaning underneath him. His eyes flicker from the clock to her face.

"Bloody hell," he hisses.

"Grumpy just called me. He's going to destroy us."

"No… no, he won't." He runs a hand through his hair, which is already sticking up in all directions. "Because we'll tell him that there was a family emergency. Your boy- he was throwing up all night. You were up with him. I was… uh, helping."

She gives him a look. "And you honestly think he'll believe that? We just have to get ready and get there as soon as possible. They're already running super behind because of us." Her heart is pounding in her chest. "I need a shower."

She gets up, pulling the covers around her, wrapping them around herself like a bath sheet. It's not that she's shy of her body - she never has been - but she's shy of _him_ looking at her body, as strange as it seems.

Killian gets up too. Without the covers, he stands, stretching, completely naked. _Why are you so relaxed,_ she wants to scream at him. Any other time, it would be fine. Today, it's infuriating.

"Okay, let's go." He follows her.

She turns, placing a hand on his chest. "Hang on, what?"

"Come on, love, be sensible. We need to shower together to save time. Simple."

Just like that, he walks past her into the bathroom and turns the shower on. Shaking her head, she follows him. As it turns out, they take even longer.

* * *

By the time they get on set everyone has stopped for a break. The majority of actors are in the cafeteria. Emma spots the usual suspects sat at a big rectangle table in the middle of the room. They're chatting between each other, eating apples, stuffing sandwiches in their mouths, sipping on coffees.

She notices a few actors she doesn't recognise sat on another table. They're making polite conversation, but not talking how her table usually talks. She just has time to see a woman with half black, half white hair and a man with a whole load of stubble before her eyes fly back to her table.

Will turns around and looks right at Emma and Killian as they cross the room.

" _Whaaaaaay-_ " he shouts, loud enough for the whole set to hear. " _They've arrived!"_

Everyone turns to face them. Emma's face flames but she flips her hair over her shoulder and holds her chin up high. The whole table claps and cheers, banging their feet on the floor and their hands on the table as they approach.

"Alright," Killian snaps as he slides into a chair. Emma follows suit. "Alright, _enough._ We're avoiding Grumpy."

"Yeah, you don't want to face Grumpy," Elsa says before taking a sip of water. She watches Emma with amused eyes. "He's going to skin you alive."

"I don't doubt it," Emma says.

"Not you, Emma. _Killian._ You're his favourite and he thinks Killian has corrupted you enough." She smirks. "And after _this morning…_ "

"Speaking of _this morning,_ " Robin snorts. "How was your date?"

"It was grand, thanks," Killian says, with as much dignity as he can muster. "I had pasta, Emma had ribs."

"But what did you have for _dessert?_ " he chortles.

"Something you haven't had for a _long_ time, mate."

That shuts him up. Robin takes a bite of his apple, throws Killian a glare and leans back in his seat. Emma's lips twitch into a smile. The whole journey to set, her heart was pounding. Now she's here, she can relax a little bit. Her shoulders begin to untense, even more so when Killian drapes an arm around her and kisses her forehead.

* * *

They run into Grumpy when filming. Emma's surprised when he doesn't say anything, but then she realises why. Isaac stands near him, trailing him, watching his every move with that weird, cat-like grin.

They're in the throne room. Emma's hair is already weighing her down, thanks to the amount of product Ariel put into it.

Killian looks dashing in his costume. She loves it when he's wearing his full king-ly outfit, complete with the long jacket and golden embroidery. He looks so handsome. She wonders if she can convince him to steal it, if just for one night.

Grumpy is in the midst of talking to Will, who has a scene with Killian in a minute. Their heads are bowed together, muttering quickly and quietly, which is a first for Grumpy. Isaac resides near them, hanging on their every word.

Emma narrows her eyes as she watches him. She turns to Killian to comment on him, only to find his eyes are on Isaac too. They're also narrowed, dark with mistrust. That's when Isaac turns his head and looks directly at them. Emma doesn't look away. Isaac does.

After Grumpy finishes talking to Will, he makes his way over to them. _Here we go,_ thinks Emma. She braces herself for whatever lecture he's about to give, ready to apologise and promise to never be late again, meaning it.

But he doesn't lecture them. He just looks between them.

"You guys ready?" he asks. "You remember what you have to do for this scene?"

"Yeah."

"Aye," says Killian. When Grumpy turns away, Killian grabs his arm. "Listen, I'm-"

Grumpy waves him away. "Don't worry about it, brother. We filmed another scene in your place. You can make it up tomorrow."

Killian releases his arm, his face mirroring the surprise on Emma's. That face quickly darkens when he sees Isaac walking towards them, his feet hardly touching the floor. He comes up a stop between them and looks between their faces, still wearing that smile.

"Good morning. I haven't had a chance to speak to you yet, but you're Emma Swan, aren't you?"

She frowns. "Yeah…"

"I thought I'd come over and say hello. I'm trying to speak to each person individually, but I've been looking forward to meeting you the most, Miss Swan. You're even more beautiful in person."

Her skin crawls. "Thanks…"

He clasps his hands together. "I look forward to working with you."

"Yeah, me too," Though she's still frowning.

She looks at Killian, wondering if Isaac is going to mention him at all, or even look at him. When it becomes apparent he won't, Killian holds out his hand.

"Killian Jones," he says. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"I know who you are." His face remains expressionless as he shakes his hand. "You're the one who was late yesterday during my introduction."

"Ah, about that-" He scratches the back of his neck.

"A misunderstanding, I'm sure." He gives an icy smile. "The same misunderstanding as this morning, I take it, when you were three hours late for work?"

Killian gives an awkward laugh. "What can I say-"

"I hope you know, Mr. Jones that I don't appreciate laziness, not when I'm in charge. I expect everyone to work to a schedule. Call me… demanding, but I guess being a writer had taught me how to properly utilize deadlines."

For once, Killian is stuck on what to say. He frowns at him, staring. Isaac stares back with beetle-like eyes. It's unforgiving.

"A-actually," Emma begins, looking between the two men. "I was late too. It was my fault, actually. Don't blame Killian for this."

"Yeah," says Grumpy. Emma hadn't even realised he was behind them until he steps into view beside Killian, patting him on the back. "Killian is never late. He's always early, in fact. Am I right, brother?" There's an awkward silence where no-one says anything. "He's one of our best actors, in professionalism and performance."

Isaac's cold eyes move from Grumpy to Killian. "That remains to be seen." He turns on his heel and walks off, over to Will who's in the midst of going through his lines.

Emma, Killian and Grumpy all look at each other.

* * *

Emma doesn't meet any of the new actors until later in the day, during a break from a scene. She stands in the cafeteria line, browsing the menu, pulling her lower lip between her teeth. She doesn't really want a hot meal - she's too warm, especially in her costume.

Maybe a sandwich will do. It's a shame they don't serve ice lollies.

"Can you recommend anything?" comes a male voice from beside her.

Emma turns to see a man with dark hair and a dusting of stubble looking up at the menu. He folds his arms and looks back down at her, raising his eyebrows.

"I'd say don't get the soup. Especially the carrot soup. It's bland."

"Noted." When they say nothing else, he holds out a hand. "Sorry, my name's August. I've just joined the cast. Today's my first day."

Emma shakes his hand. "It's nice to meet you, August. I'm Emma."

"Emma Swan, I know." His eyes seem to twinkle. He reminds her of Killian a little bit. "I don't say that to be a creep. I mean, everyone who is _anyone_ knows who you are."

She folds her arms. "You're a fan, huh?"

"A _huge_ fan. It was a dream came true when I realised I got the part."

They move along in the line, Emma becoming increasingly aware that she hasn't decided what she wants. "And what part is that?"

"I'm playing a prince from a rival kingdom." He grabs a muffin from the counter.

"A prince?" She didn't realise that there were going to be any new princes, or rival kingdoms, and she's read all the scripts. At her stumped expression he says, "You haven't received the new scripts yet?"

She shakes her head.

"You'll get them. I guess I got mine early because I had to audition." He shakes his head. "Man, those auditions are tough. What's the name of that director? The short one? Angry?"

"Leroy. Though we call him Grumpy." She smiles. "He's alright."

They move along the line and suddenly Emma is faced with the serving lady(?) and no idea what she wants. She picks a sandwich off the menu and orders a bottle of water. She pays quickly.

"I'll see you around, August," she says, with a smile.

"Sure. Judging by the scripts, I guess we'll be seeing a lot of each other."

She doesn't ask him what he means by that, but is hurried along as he pays. She makes her way over to the table. It's only Graham there at the moment, everyone else in the middle of the scenes. Killian has a long one with Elsa where they'll be confronting each other on the feelings of the king's death.

Graham is dressed in costume too - old servant rags.

"Who's that?" he asks, as Emma sits next to him.

She tucks herself in. "August. He's one of the new actors, apparently. He's a fan."

"He looks a bit like Killian."

"You think?"

"He has his… aesthetic."

Emma chuckles. "I bet Killian won't like that."

"Did he say who he was playing?"

"A prince."

"A prince?" Graham looks just as confused as Emma did, the space between his eyebrows dimpling as he frowns. "Since when do we have other princes?"

"It's a rival kingdom. He said that apparently we're gonna be having a lot of scenes together." She lowers her voice as she meets Graham's eyes. "What do you think that means?"

"No idea. But I'll tell you what, Emma. I have a bad feeling about this."

Emma bites into her sandwich, trying to push down bad feelings of her own.

* * *

 **Whooo! A regular update for once! What do you think?**


	5. Chapter 5

_KINGS AND KISSES._

 _Stars Emma Swan and Killian Jones share a Passionate Kiss on the Porch._

Killian slams the paper down on the kitchen table with a disgusted expression. Emma had been around his house last night for a meal and, yes, he had kissed her on the porch, but it was a peck, nothing more. There was no passion in it.

He intends to throw it in the bin, but curiosity gets the better of him and he opens the article. It's a huge double page spread, and right in the middle is a photo of Killian kissing Emma. Half of the photo is shrouded in darkness and obscured by leaves— the photographer must have been crouched in his rose bushes.

Paper clutched in hand, he makes his way over to the window and pulls open the curtain to peek through. Sunlight streams into the room.

Sure enough, patches of his grass is flattened. If he directs his gaze to the rose bushes, they're all all tangled and twisted. Half of the branches are snapped clean off, like someone has been sitting in them. Suppressing a growl, Killian lets the curtain fall and turns back to the article.

 _We have known for months that Kings and Queens stars Emma Swan and Killian Jones are together, despite neither of them confirming the rumours. As it turns out, this kiss is one of many. According to our source, they can't keep their hands off each other._

" _They're always kissing on set," a source confirms._

 _Wrong_ , Killian thinks. He would like to have a word with this source and see exactly how they came to that conclusion.

" _They're very touchy feel-y. Killian always has his arm around Emma. They've been late a few times because they've been with each other." And that's not all this source had to say._

 _According to them, Killian and Emma are hardly apart. They spend the majority of the time in each other's houses. Killian confirmed this himself a few months ago on the Teddy Norman show, claiming that Emma has even slept in his bed._

" _We all saw it coming," the source tells us. "We knew it before they did. "They're madly in love. I wouldn't be surprised if there was a proposal soon."_

"Fat chance," Killian scoffs, closing the paper. He can't even work up the courage to tell her he loves her. How is he supposed to propose?

He sighs as he fills the kettle with water, eyes flicking absently over to the clock. Half eleven. He isn't needed on set until tonight— it's a night shoot and he's in for a long haul. At least it's not cold. Filming will be unforgiving when winter comes.

He's in the midst of settling on the sofa with his tea and a couple of biscuits when the phone rings.

"Bloody hell." He mutters to himself, as he makes his way to the kitchen where the phone is.

He swipes it off the hook and presses it to his ear. "Hello?"

"Killian! Brother!" comes Liam's voice from the other end.

"Liam," Killian sighs, unable to suppress a smile. It's been too long since he's heard his brother's familiar tone. The voice that reminds him of home and all the good things that go with it. "How are you doing?"

"Grand, grand. What about you? How's work going?"

He makes his way back into the living room, keeping the phone cradled to his ear. "It's busy. We're in the middle of getting the scripts at the moment." He lowers himself back on the sofa, picking up his tea. "And filming is hectic. I have a night shoot tonight."

"Night shoot? Sounds bloody awful."

"It is."

"And how's… life?"

"It's good." Killian takes a sip of his tea. "Between filming, I've been trying to date Emma. I took her to that place we ate last you visited. Do you remember?"

"Yes, I remember." There's a pause. It's too long for Killian's liking. "You're still seeing her, then?"

His heart sinks. He tries to keep his voice natural as he says, "You know I am, Liam."

"Ah. I see."

An awkward silence overtakes them. Killian bites back a sigh, closing his eyes in frustration. He thought that swaying Liam towards Emma would be easy, but that doesn't seem to be the case. He believed that if Liam would just _listen_ to him, he'd come to understand how special Emma really is.

But his brother is a stubborn man. After hearing about her past, he doesn't think she's good enough for him. Liam hasn't even considered the possibility of the reverse.

"I love her, Liam."

He's surprised by his own honesty. He hasn't said it out loud, not even to himself.

"Just be careful, okay?"

"She's not who you think she is."

There's a pause. Killian hates it when they argue like this. The few moments he spends speaking to his brother are precious. They shouldn't be wasted on petty fights.

"Anyway, I have some news," Liam says when the silence gets too much. "As much as I enjoy your company, dear brother, I rang you for a reason."

"Oh aye?"

"I'm getting married."

" _What?"_

He manages to spill half of his tea down himself in shock. _Piss it,_ he thinks as he drops the mug on the coffee table. He hardly even feels the tea seeping through his shirt, onto his skin. He's too consumed by Liam's news. His brother? _Engaged?_ He didn't even realise Liam was seeing anyone.

"Popped the question this morning." His voice is casual. "I thought you should be the first to know."

 _Too right._

"Who's the lucky girl?"

"Tink."

"Tink? As in the Tink you sent over to date me, _Tink_?"

What a turn of events. He'd laugh if he wasn't so startled.

"I didn't see it coming myself. We've been friends for years. I just didn't see what was right in front of me. It's only been three months…" His voice turns sheepish. "But when it's right, it's right. Isn't it?"

"It is," he says, though he's thinking _is it?_

He's never been able to tell when something's right. He may have found something special with Emma, but he doesn't know how long it'll last, especially with the media's hungry eyes watching them at all times.

Killian clears his throat. "Bloody hell, though. Congratulations! I'm so happy for you!" And he is, as the shock subsides and a grin lights up his face. His brother, _married._ "Have you set a date?"

"Not yet but we're thinking maybe a winter wedding. Tink loves the snow, but I think it's a long shot. You know how sparse the snowfall is here." He chuckles. "Anyway, I should go. We're supposed to be meeting Tink's parents for dinner in an hour, and this phone call is probably costing a bloody fortune."

 _Dinner?_ Damn timezones.

"Alright, Liam. Text me with Skype times, yes? I need to congratulate Tink."

"Of course! I'll speak to you later, brother. Take care."

"And you."

After they hang up, Killian is still smiling.

Marriage. He shouldn't have been surprised. He always knew Liam would be the first to get married, having never harboured the same relationship insecurities that Killian has. And Tink is a good match for him. She's feisty; Liam needs someone like that.

But the idea of a wedding creates a little bubble of worry in Killian's chest and his smile falters, just for a moment. How is he supposed to take Emma to the wedding when Liam is so against the mere idea of her? But he can't show up alone, and he can't take anyone else, not when he's in a committed relationship with Emma.

No, she'll have to come with him. Hopefully Liam will come around.

But maybe Liam's feelings— or lack of— are a good thing. Afterall, if Liam saw Emma the way Killian did, he's fairly sure his brother would be in love with her too.

* * *

The night shoot begins at nine, just when the sun starts to go down and darkness casts its shadows.

When he arrives on set the first thing he does is look for Emma, but she isn't anywhere to be seen, not even in the costume department.

Thanks to the amount of armour he has to wear for the next scene—a fight scene—costume takes almost an hour. But he can't complain; he adores the fighting scenes. It's typical, but he loves the feeling of a sword in his hand, swinging it, hearing the rush of wind as it cuts through the air. It reminds him of when he and Liam used to bash wooden sticks together as boys.

The scene is with Toby, Graham's character.

Killian hobbles onto set feeling very much like a tin can. His hair sticks to his forehead and the back of his neck. Even though the evenings have been cooler recently, it's still too hot for his liking.

"Wow, you look warm," Graham says as soon as he sees him. He wears his brown, old servant rags, a stripe of mud covering one side of his face.

Killian manages a tight smile. He doesn't consider himself a jealous person, but every time he sees Graham he remembers when he kissed Emma. He saw them the once—Emma wrapped up in Graham's arms, his lips on hers.

He shakes his head. That was before they were even together. And he doesn't for one second think that Emma and Graham _would_ kiss now, but he has been known to hold a grudge.

He offers Graham a warmer smile. "Hey mate, how are you?"

"Hot." He wipes his hand across his forehead and through his curls, which stick up in every direction. "Ready for winter."

"You won't be saying that when the snow comes."

Hercules, the stunt director makes his way over to them. Unlike them, he doesn't look very warm at all. In fact, he looks as perfect as usual, not a dark hair out of place, not a drop of sweat on his brow. It's almost like he was carved by Gods. He carries two swords, a smile on his face. The three of them have become quite pal-y, since they've been working together all week, perfecting the sword play.

"Do you guys remember what you're doing?" he asks, holding out the swords.

Graham accepts his. "I'm sure I'll remember it when we get started."

"Aye, me too."

"Great—we'll get started in five."

He turns and disappears across the grass, over to where Grumpy stands. They begin talking immediately, and Killian can make out a few booming words coming from Grumpy's mouth, such as 'weight', 'pull' and 'lunch later'.

Killian places his sword in his sheath and turns to face Graham, ready to make polite conversation. He plans to ask him something about his girlfriend, Ruby. Emma has been telling him that they've been getting quite close recently. But Killian isn't sure exactly how much of that he should know.

But Graham is preoccupied, looking across the field, eyes narrowed. The expression strikes Killian as odd, since Graham is usually so kind faced. He follows his gaze to a man shrouded in leather, with dark hair and stubble.

"Who's that?" Killian asks.

"His name's August. Emma told me."

Killian frowns. "I've never seen him before."

"Apparently he's one of the new actors. He's playing a prince."

Since when did they have other princes?

Like he can feel them watching him, August turns his head and looks in their direction. His mouth twitches into a half smile and he begins to move. He's halfway across the field before Killian realises he's heading towards them.

"Huh," Graham says.

August comes to a stop in front of them. He offers them another one of those half smiles.

"Hey," he says. He has a smooth voice. "I thought I'd come and say hi. I'm one of the new actors. I'm—"

"August," Killian finishes for him, holding out his hand. "Graham told me."

He gives Graham a look. "Graham? I don't believe I've had the pleasure."

"Emma told me." he says, in way of explanation. They shake hands too.

"Ah, Emma." He smiles, eyes twinkling. And then he turns to Killian. "You must be Killian Jones, right? Emma Swan's boyfriend?"

Killian can't help his grin. "Did Emma actually use that word? Boyfriend?"

"Uh… no, actually." August gives an awkward laugh. "She didn't mention you. But you two are all anyone can talk about at the moment. On set and off."

"Oh, right." He's not entirely sure how he feels about that. Not because he has a problem with being Emma's boyfriend - God knows he's unworthy of the honour - but because he's not sure how _she'll_ feel about it.

Though she is the one who said they're in a relationship…

He shrugs it off and smiles again. "How are you enjoying your first week?" he asks August, trying to make conversation.

"Great, thanks. I keep getting lost, though. Mulan - is that her name? - keeps shouting at me for it. I've been late a few times. That Isaac doesn't like it when people are late, does he?"

"I feel you there, mate."

He's going to have to make sure he's never late ever again, especially if Isaac is hanging out on set. He doesn't seem to be here today.

"I should be okay after today, though. Emma's offered to give me a tour."

"That's nice of her."

 _I'm surprised_ , he almost says, but stops himself. She tends to keep to herself. God knows, he had a hard enough time just making polite conversation with her when they first met.

August's eyes sparkle again. "You've got a keeper there, Killian."

"Thanks."

He's spared from further conversation with August by Grumpy, who marches over to them, followed closely by Hercules. He shakes his clipboard at them as he comes to a stop.

"Right, let's go. We're running behind. You guys better be on top form today."

"I'm always on top form," Killian says, flashing a winning smile. "The best form there is."

Grumpy slaps him on the back. "Can't argue with that."

The sword fight is gruelling. The sun combined with his armour creates a sweltering heat trap he is unable to escape from. When he's not cursing the sun for the heat, he's cursing it for his lack of vision. Everything is too bright, too painful.

Grumpy makes them do it over and over again until they get it right.

 _Clang, clang, clang,_ as Killian and Graham hit their swords against each other. Hercules shouts actions at them, and reminds them about their footwork. Killian has to be reminded about his footwork quite a lot, which results in a _bloody hell_ every time he gets told off. Graham is practically flawless.

"It's like I was born to sword fight," he chuckles after, when they strip off from their costumes in the trailer.

Killian's shirt is completely stuck to him. He has to peel it from his skin, and he throws it in the washing basket. Graham seems to be less sticky - but then again, he hasn't spent the whole time in armour.

Graham hesitates in the door of the trailer. "You coming?"

"I will, but I'm gonna grab a quick shower first." He has to do a scene with Emma later - she won't appreciate it if he's unclean, especially since they'll be getting up all close and personal.

"Okay, I'll see if I can find Emma. I'll see you soon, Killian."

"Alright, mate."

* * *

By the time Killian finishes his shower, he's hurried straight into hair and makeup by a ruffled Mulan, ready for his next scene with Emma.

Ariel re-washes and re-styles his hair. This time he's going to be in his chamber, in his full kingly costume. They don't usually do outside scenes and on-set scenes together, but since Killian and Emma were three hours late for work the other day, they have little choice.

He wears his knee-length red jacket over a maroon tunic. Ariel places one of the many crowns on his freshly curled hair. By the time she's finished, he looks good as new. He examines himself in the full-length mirror, watching his coat swish as he moves.

"Killian," Mulan calls from outside the trailer. "Get a move on. They're waiting for you."

* * *

When he arrives in Alexander's chambers, everyone is already there; Grumpy, Emma, the actresses that play her handmaidens' and, to Killian's surprise, August. They're stood off to the side, talking. August says something and Emma throws her head back and laughs.

He approaches them.

"Killian!" He can't help but feel satisfied at the way her face lights up into a smile when he sees her. "This is—"

"August, I know. We met earlier. He was watching Graham and I's swordfighting."

She blinks in surprise. "Oh, right."

"I'm back again," August says, with that same half-smile he was wearing earlier. "I'm just watching various scenes, trying to pick up some tips for when I start filming. Do you have any?"

"Tips? I'm not sure." He scratches the back of his head. "I suppose you've just got to make sure you know all your lines. It makes the process as painless as possible."

August folds his arms. "That would help."

Emma indulges August in a smile before she returns to Killian. "Does that mean you know all your lines?"

"There aren't many lines," he says. He doesn't _mean_ his voice to come out so teasing, but it just does so. She bites her lip in response, turning away from him.

And that's not strictly true. There's one line that Killian isn't sure he'll be able to say. The one that they haven't even said to each other yet. One that feels too close and too personal. Too real. His heart picks up at the thought.

 _It's just acting._

It doesn't help that they're doing one of those pesky sex scenes; the one Grumpy relieved them of last week.

"Killian, Emma," Grumpy bellows, making them jump. "Are you ready to go?"

They confirm that they are and the make-up people are whirling around them, styling his hair, adding powder to his face. Out of the corner of his eyes, he can see them touch up Emma and adjust her dress. Her dress is beautiful today. The lilac tone brings out the pink in her skin.

On Grumpy's commands, they get into positions. Killian stands by the window, looking out into the fields. Or the green screen, in this case. He frowns, Alexander deep in thought, and places his hands behind his back. Alexander's signature stance.

Emma stands off set, just under the arch of Alexander's chamber, waiting for Grumpy's _action._ It comes, as loud and as commanding as ever and just like that, Killian finds his character as quickly as possible.

He feels Emma approach him.

"Apologies, Your Grace. I'm just here to change your linen."

Killian turns around and for a moment, his struck expression is entirely his own and not Alexander's. The lighting catches her just right, creating a halo of white around her. She offers him a smile, and it's so different from a smile Emma would normally give him. It's so tentative, so worried.

"You know you don't have to call me that, Rose," Killian says.

She gives him a look. "Things are different now."

"They don't have to be."

His heart is hammering in his chest. He can feel it in his ears. The line is close.

"You're the _King._ And I'm…"

"The woman I…" He pauses. The words feel too close to his heart. "I…" _Say it. It's acting. It's not real._

" _Cut,_ " Grumpy calls. He marches over to them.

Killian buries his head in his hand. He can feel the heat in his cheeks. More importantly, he can feel Emma's eyes on him, watching him. What must she think of him?

"What happened?" Grumpy asks.

"Nothing. I simply forgot my line." He gives an empty smile.

Grumpy gives him a strange look. "Well, don't forget it again." He marches back off set and takes his chair near one of the cameras. "We'll go from Emma's line. Action!"

Emma peers up at Killian with wide eyes. "You're the King and I'm…"

He swallows. Why is his mouth so dry? It's only acting. _It's just acting._ He swallows again. "The woman I…" He takes in a breath of courage, praying Emma will mistake it for acting. "The woman I love."

She stares up at him, her eyes still wide. Emma never seems to have that wide-eyed look Rose possesses. It's like magic. And, just like that, her eyes fill with tears, and one drips down her cheek. It's frightening how quickly she can do that.

Killian remembers the next lines of the script.

 _Unable to believe his words, unable to believe that a king could love someone like her, Rose grasps him by the collar and pulls her to him. They exchange a passionate kiss._

And that's exactly what she does. As soon as she presses her lips to his, he forgets what he's supposed to be doing. He has to fight to remember, but then he recalls that the script says something about Alexander and his hands in her hair. He moves his hands up to tangle in her soft locks as he kisses her.

" _Cut."_

They break apart instantly and Killian is reminded of their first on-screen kiss. He didn't want to let go then, afraid he would never get to hold her again. It's amazing to think that now he doesn't have to let go. He gets to kiss her whenever he wants to.

"Right, guys," Grumpy says, rubbing his hands together. "Belle's not here at the moment, but I think she'll like it if I add some more romance in here. So Killian, you have to pick Emma up."

Killian places his hands on his hips. "Bridal style?"

"No, the other one. Where Emma's arms are around your neck."

"Okay," Emma says, nodding.

"Positions." They hardly have time to get ready before Grumpy yells, "And _action._ "

And just like that, Killian and Emma are kissing again. He tries to remain as professional as possible, though he can't help but wonder what other people in the room are thinking, now everyone knows they're together. Emma's lips are soft on his, but they have a robotic feel. She is able to detach herself. He however, struggles not to get lost in the moment, something he has _never_ struggled with before her.

Her fingers curl around the nape of his neck, but below his hairline, exactly where he likes. He's oddly aware of the sound of them kissing, and the way she purrs into him. He dips down and places his arm at the top of her legs, lifting her up. She wraps her arms around his neck, still kissing him, and they stumble backwards towards the bed.

They fall back into the mattress, completely improvised, and both laugh out loud.

" _Cut,_ " calls Grumpy. " _Stay where you are._ That was gorgeous. Really beautifully. Belle will love it."

"Great," Emma says, slightly breathless. Killian chuckles in her ear.

"Okay. Now I want it to be really slow. Lots of slow neck kissing. Really draw it out."

 _God's sake,_ Killian thinks to himself. Usually their love scenes are fast and he's able to get it over as quickly as possible, like ripping off a plaster. Grumpy must _really_ be trying to make Belle happy.

" _Action._ "

Killian kisses her again, softly, slowly, drawing it out. He tries to think about what looks good but her hands are in his hair and she's gently tugging on the strands. Part of it makes him cringe in embarrassment. The fact that there's a room full of people _watching_ something that should be private to them puts him a little on edge.

But, he's a professional.

He kisses down her neck.

Slow.

Slow.

Slow.

Grumpy makes him kiss her every which way. Down the other side of her neck - claiming something about camera angles - right down to her collarbone, across the exposed bit of her chest. He makes him drag his fingernails through her hair. For Emma, he makes her strip him of his jacket, and throw it across the room. She unbuttons his shirt. He tries not to tremble as she trails her fingertips down his stomach.

He makes him undo her corset and he makes him bite her seven times - _seven -_ until they get the right angle. He makes him kiss her again and again until their lips are red and swollen.

"Cut," comes a voice that's not Grumpy's.

Killian looks up from Emma's neck and straight across the room into the eyes of Isaac. He's watching them, hands clasped in front of him, face expressionless. Funny. Killian hadn't realised he was there.

"I think that's enough," he says. "We need to move on."

Grumpy looks between Emma and Killian to Isaac, a frown on his face. He doesn't say anything for a moment. Everyone watches him, waiting for a sense of direction. Eventually, he gives a slow and serious nod.

"Okay, that's it. Great job, guys. Super sexy. Belle will _adore_ it."

Killian pulls himself off Emma. He holds out his hand and pulls her up. She's flushed - from embarrassment or because he was practically crushing her, he doesn't know, but she's not meeting his eyes. _It could be worse,_ he thinks. At least they're not making them do naked scenes together.

Yet.

They walk out off set together, back to the trailers. Emma is silent the whole time, and he doesn't look at her. He's too embarrassed. It's strange. He never finds himself embarrassed when it comes to Emma, but kissing her in front of everyone was one of the strangest experiences of his whole life. It was different from other love scenes.

 _Maybe it was the I love you,_ says a voice inside his head. He shakes his head, feeling his cheeks warm just thinking about it.

They make their way to the trailers. He turns to speak to her, to say something, but she's looking at him with a fierce look in her eyes. He raises his eyebrows. "What?"

"Is your trailer free?"

"Well, I'm not in it?"

"Not yet. But we need to finish what we started."

His eyes widen. "Emma - love - on set?"

She shrugs. "What can I say? You're a good kisser."

She pushes him up the steps to his trailer and he complies, chuckling. "But I'm still wearing my costume."

"Good."

" _Emma Swan!"_

He chuckles again, but she means business. They don't return until Mulan is banging on the trailer door, telling them that they're needed on set. _Now._

* * *

 **What did you guys think?**


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

* * *

Emma sits on the toilet lid, tapping her hands on her knees, staring at the bathroom tiles, her heart in her throat. She tries to take deep breaths, but every inhale is ragged and every exhale is shaky.

Two minutes. That's how long she has to wait for. Two minutes, then she'll know.

But two minutes stretches forever, and the longer she waits, the more unstable she feels. A cold sweat builds up on the back of her neck, making her stray hairs damp. She can hardly concentrate over the sound of her heart. _Da-dum. Da-dum. Da-dum._

One minute.

 _Da-dum. Da-dum. Da-dum._

Thirty seconds.

She half wishes she never bought one now. She doesn't want to know, but she _needs_ to. It's better to find out sooner rather than later, so she has more time to explore all her options. And more time to work out what to tell Killian.

 _Killian._ They've only been dating four months. It's too soon for anyone, let alone two actors at the height of their careers. She can't imagine any situation where he would react badly, but he's a gentleman and he always have been. It's part of the reason she loves him.

Ten seconds.

What will the show do? Will they kick her off?

 _Beep, beep, beep, beep, beep, beep._

Her phone timer.

She grabs it from where she left it balancing off the bathroom side and turns it off with shaking hands.

 _It's now or never_ , she thinks as she rises from the toilet. Her legs feel like jelly, like they could buckle underneath her at any moment. She struggles to see straight, she feels so nauseous. Another tell-tale sign.

The yellow lights are too bright for her sensitive eyes. She blinks away from them. It takes all her courage to peer into the sink, to cast her eyes to the little blue and white stick.

Negative.

But why doesn't she feel relieved? Surely, her heart should calm down and her stomach should unknot, but she still feels the same as she did mere seconds ago. She still has the same cold sweat.

Maybe it's because she knows it's too early; a negative result doesn't mean anything. She's only missed her period by a few days. There's still a possibility she could be pregnant, and right now, right at the moment, she's almost entirely sure she is. And she's always known she could trust her gut instinct. It's what's gotten her so far through life unscathed, after everything she's been through.

A light knock comes at the door.

Emma jumps, hand flying up to her heart. She tries to keep her voice calm as she says, "Yeah?"

"Mom?" Henry asks. "Are you still getting ready? You're supposed to meet Mary Margaret in ten minutes. And… you're supposed to take me to school."

"Alright kid, I'm coming."

* * *

"Pregnant?" Mary Margaret half-whispers.

They'd planned to meet last night; Mary Margaret needs to get out of the house and have some girl-time, especially now Hope is her every waking thought, and Emma desperately needs someone to talk to. Both women opted for somewhere quiet and the coffee shop seemed like a perfect fit.

They sit in a booth, shrouded by leather, away from anyone who might listen in. Or, more importantly, recognise Emma. Mary Margaret cradles a creamy hot chocolate in her hands, whereas Emma went for something coffee-based; a hazelnut latte. The two of them haven't drank anything yet. They stare across the wooden table at each other, eyes wide, faces ashen.

"I don't know," Emma whispers. She shrugs, trying to make it seem casual, although it looks anything but. "I mean, I could be."

"How many days are you late?"

"Four."

"And does… Killian know?"

" _No_!" She hisses, so loud, a few people turn to look at her. She lowers her voice and leans forward. "Of course not. I haven't told a soul. Apart from you, anyway."

She taps her fingertips on the side of her mug. "And the test was… definitely negative?"

"I'm not an idiot."

"I know," she sighs. "Emma, I know you're not. But these things happen. Like you said, that doesn't mean anything, not if you're only four days late. Wait a week, take another test and see what it says."

Emma nods, looking down at her latte. The sight of it makes her queasy, but that could just be to do with nerves.

"Hey," Mary Margaret says, reaching out to take her hand. Emma looks up as she squeezes softly. "It's okay. There's an equal chance you're _not_ pregnant. And if you are? Well, we'll take it as it comes. When you know for sure, the first thing you need to do is tell Killian."

Emma averts her eyes. "I know."

"I'm serious, Emma." Her voice is stern. "You don't want him to find out from the media. It's better coming from you."

She's right about that. It annoys her that she doesn't really have time to reflect on this. With so many reporters and journalists watching her, it's better to get it out in the open as soon as possible. He deserves the truth from her, not from some sleazy magazine.

Mary Margaret squeezes her hand again. "But whatever you decide, I'll be here for you. You know that, right?"

Emma nods. "I know."

They move onto lighter subjects and thankfully, Mary Margaret doesn't talk about Hope too much. It's not that Emma doesn't love hearing about Hope—she adores that little bundle of joy—but she's not sure she can stomach the thought of babies at the moment.

Not when she thinks she could have one inside her.

She talks mostly about David and his antics. She's been annoyed with him recently, simply because he's been complaining about being tired all the time, yet he has little reason to, according to Mary Margaret.

"He doesn't do anything around the house," she complains. "He doesn't hoover. He doesn't clean. Don't get me wrong, he used to _all_ the time. But since you got on _Kings and Queens_ , the clients have been rolling in and he's taken on so many and—" Her eyes widen when she realises her words. "I don't mean anything bad to _you,_ Emma. It's not your fault. I just think he's bitten off more than he can chew."

Emma nods. "I understand."

They move onto other topics and Emma tells Mary Margaret about Henry, and how he's doing in school.

"Straight As at the moment."

Mary Margaret sits back in her seat, still cradling her mug of hot chocolate. She shakes her head with a smile. "Smart kid."

"I know."

She's lucky. He _always_ does his homework; she doesn't even need to ask once. She's heard so many horror stories about kids answering back and refusing to do their schoolwork, but Henry is the complete opposite of that. He's a dream come true. When he's not doing schoolwork, he's playing games or quietly reading. There's no drinking, no drugs. She and Regina often discuss how easy they have it.

Not that Emma mentions Regina to Mary Margaret. As far as the other is concerned, they want nothing to do with each other, and that's fine with Emma. She keeps them as separate relationships.

She's interrupted when she feels her phone vibrate in her pocket.

"Sorry, I really have to check this. It might be work."

After they were so late the other week, she's not taking _any_ chances. If there's any possibility she's messed up her schedule, she wants to hear about it as soon as possible, and not after she has time to fix it.

But it's not Grumpy, or another one of her superiors. It's Elsa.

 _Have you read the scripts?_

Emma frowns at her phone. Mary Margaret, who watches her expression change, asks, "Who is it?"

"It's Elsa," Emma says, still frowning. "She wants to know if I've read the scripts? I didn't even think they'd arrived yet."

She types out a reply, that _no_ she hasn't read the scripts; not yet, anyway.

"What?" Mary Margaret asks when Emma's phone vibrates again and her frown becomes even deeper.

"She's telling me to read them as soon as possible. She wants me to see if I think there's anything wrong with it."

"Why?"

"I don't know. She didn't say." Emma shrugs and slips her phone back into her pocket. "I guess I'll find out later."

But she finds herself obsessing over it for the rest of the coffee date. She wonders what they say. Usually, Elsa _never_ texts her about the scripts. She hardly ever mentions them, unless to comment on how good they are. But there's nothing about her texts that seems good.

By the time she drops Mary Margaret off, she's itching to find out what's in them.

* * *

When she gets back to her house, she's surprised to step into a lit-up hallway. She's even more surprised to see Henry's shoes and rucksack pushed to one side. She frowns. He's supposed to be at school. She dropped him off herself.

"Kid?" she asks. "You in?"

"In here, mom," comes his croaky voice from the living room.

She follows the voice, her boots clicking against the floor.

The sight she's met with makes her heart swell, and no in the good way. Henry lays out on the sofa, his feet dangling over the edge. He must have brought his bedsheets down from the bedroom and tucked them around himself. He's propped up by a few cushions, but his head lolls to the side. His face is an unnatural, sickly pale, and there's a sheen of sweat across his forehead.

Emma's eyes widen in alarm. "Henry? You okay?" She crosses the room.

"I'm sick, mom. I felt sick this morning, but I thought it was nothing."

He _had_ mentioned something about feeling nauseous earlier, but like Henry said, it could have been nothing. Emma assumed it to be nothing. But he hadn't eaten this morning, and that's not like Henry at all. She feels a pang of guilt in her stomach.

"The school sent you home, huh?" She asks, as she places her palm to his forehead. His skin is hot and clammy to the touch _._ He really _is_ sick. "You've got a temperature."

"I didn't wanna go home, but I threw up on Mr. Grimm's shoes."

Emma strokes his head. "The horrible history teacher?"

"That's him. Everyone laughed." He manages a weak smile.

After questioning Henry a little more, Emma finds out that he's got a bug—something that's been going around in school. Lack of appetite, nausea, headaches; all the symptoms are there. She fusses, bringing the covers right up to his chin, checking his forehead for improvement and upon realising that no improvement has been made, checking his forehead again.

She digs out some aspirin from the medicine cupboard and watches to make sure he takes it. When she's satisfied he's drugged up with medicine, she asks him which soup he'd like.

"But mom, I'm not hungry."

She folds her arms. "You have to eat _something,_ even if it's just a spoonful. Just try, okay?"

He knows he won't win. "Okay."

She disappears into the kitchen but stops in her tracks when she sees a package on the table, addressed to _Emma Swan_. She recognises the big brown envelope at once. _The scripts,_ she thinks, with a jolt to her heart. Henry must have picked them up when the mailman pushed them through the letterbox.

She puts Henry's soup on the stove to warm up before she allows herself to open them. She rips the brown paper off until two scripts fall onto the table with two thumps. They're heavier than usual, and the font seems different somehow. Or maybe it's the layout.

But that isn't the thing that gets her the most. It's the big, black letters on the front of each script.

 _Isaac Heller._

 _Shit,_ she thinks.

She finishes heating up Henry's soup before she looks at them. She slices and butters a piece of bread she knows he probably won't eat, and pours him a generous glass of orange juice. She places everything on a tray and hands it to him.

"Thanks mom," though he's looking at the food like he's going to be sick.

"Just make sure you eat _some_ of it, okay?"

"Okay, mom."

"But don't force yourself."

After she watches him take his first mouthful, she disappears back into the kitchen to read the scripts.

They're much the same as always, except Isaac's style is bolder, with more jokes. He explains _exactly_ what the actors have to do, without leaving much room for improvisation. Belle's are different. They're softer, gentler, and more romantic.

That's the first difference she notices.

The second is a few new characters. One, a prince by the name of Edmund. That must be August's character. He's very flirty with Rose.

The third difference she notices is that there are hardly any scenes between Rose and Alexander. There are more in the second script, but they seem forced and unnatural. Most of them are arguments. Emma still has a lot of scenes, but the majority of them are with Edmund.

 _What the hell is going on?_

* * *

 **Thank you for all your comments, guys! It's so great reading them- you all seem to be on the same wave length. XD I hope you liked this one- thanks for reading!**


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter** **Seven**

* * *

Emma doesn't plan to talk to Belle about the scripts. She doesn't plan to say anything, not to Killian, not even to Elsa. But when she sees Belle walking across the studio in her heels, carrying a folder, something possesses Emma and she finds herself running to catch up with her.

"Belle," she calls. "Hey, Belle."

Belle stops in her tracks and turns, her hair flowing with her. She fixes Emma with a small smile. "Emma. What can I do for you?"

There are still bags under her eyes. If anything, they seem darker than they were the last time Emma saw her. Those eyes aren't as bright as usual; they're almost dull. And if Emma's not mistaken, she seems to have dropped a few pounds. It puts her on edge, and she was already nervous, with the possibility of a baby, and the new scripts.

"What's going on with the scripts?" Emma asks, trying to keep her voice light and airy.

Belle's face drops. She averts her eyes. "Some… changes have had to be made."

"They're pretty significant changes."

Belle gives another one of those smiles, though it doesn't reach her eyes. "That's just the way it is. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got some work to do." She scoots around her, clutching the folders so tightly, her hands are white.

"Hey!" Emma calls. When Belle doesn't turn, she follows, over camera wires and through extras in full-length period dresses. "Hey, I don't understand."

Belle keeps her head bowed as she walks. Her hair bounces with every step. "That's just how it is. If you don't like it, take it up with Isaac. Or better yet, take it up with the network."

She picks up her pace and Emma stops walking, powerless to do anything except watch her disappear into the crowds, a knot in her stomach.

* * *

Emma doesn't see Belle for the rest of the day. She passes by her office a few times, but the door remains firmly shut. Whether she's in there or not, Emma has no idea. She doesn't have time to find out, not with her upcoming scenes.

Her next scene if with Killian, one she knows she should be looking forward to, especially since their scenes are few and far between. But instead the thought fills her with dread. She hasn't seen him properly since their shared time in the trailer. Although it isn't for lack of trying.

His trying, that is.

He has texted her a few times, but she hasn't answered. He's tried calling her too, but she's let her house phone and her cell go to voicemail. When she's on set, she's been spending her time with Graham (and occasionally August, who's friendly enough, if a little clingy). If she sees Killian coming, she turns a corner to avoid him.

She knows deep down inside her that it's childish. She should talk to him like an adult. And after all they've been through together she should be able to tell him how she feels. But she doesn't want to face him, not until she's sure that there isn't going to be a little prince or princess running about.

God, she feels sick every time she thinks about it.

 _Maybe because you know you'd keep the baby,_ a voice says inside her head. She resists the urge to tell herself to _shut up_ , but she knows she's right. She would keep the baby. She made so many mistakes when it came to Henry. Even now she sometimes lies awake at night, thinking about what would have happened if she had never given him up; would their relationship be stronger? She wouldn't have been alone. She'd have had someone to give all her love to. She owes this child all the love they deserve.

Her child.

Killian's child.

Killian finds her just before their scene. They're filming in the Throne room again. Emma sits on one of the chairs in the corner, watching as the crew pass by with wires, cameras and microphones. Occasionally her eyes flit down to her script, and she goes over a few lines, but before long her eyes go out of focus and she's left thinking of the possibility of a baby.

She should have known she wouldn't be able to escape him for long.

"You avoiding me, Swan?" he asks, in way of greeting. He lowers himself into the chair next to her.

She looks up at him. He's wearing his navy tunic and golden crown.

She gives him an empty smile. "Not avoiding you."

"Are you sure? Because I've tried texting, I've tried calling and this- this is avoiding me."

"Not avoiding you," she repeats, with another one of those smiles. "I've just been dealing with… stuff."

He frowns. "Stuff?"

"Stuff."

"Perhaps I can help?"

"No… no. I don't think you can." She closes her script with a sigh, looking up into his face. She feels a pang of guilt as her eyes focus on his eyes lined with worry, his downward mouth. Lips, she would kiss away the frown if she could find the courage.

"Emma…"

"Drop it, Killian." She doesn't mean her words to be so sharp. "Look, I love having you around. I really appreciate it and I love spending time with you. But sometimes I've just gotta deal with stuff on my own, okay? And that how I've always been."

He swallows. "Okay. Fine."

"Don't be like that."

"Like what?"

"Like… that." She gives him a look. "This isn't a slight at you. I just need some time, on my own."

He manages a smile but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Of course, love." His voice is soft. "Anything you need."

She takes his hand— "Thank you—" and squeezes lightly.

He runs his thumb across her fingers. "Anytime," and she knows she's forgiven. Then he looks down at her hand. "Bloody hell, you're hot, Emma. Do you feel okay?" He takes her wrist in his hand.

"I feel fine," but before she can properly reassure him, Grumpy is calling for them to get into their positions.

Their scene starts off well. There isn't any awkward tension, which is what she was worried about, especially since she _has_ been avoiding him and regardless of how understanding he is, he's well aware of that fact. But it's fine. He's as professional as ever.

It's another kissing scene.

Alexander tells Rose that he doesn't care what she thinks; that she should be his Queen, whether she's a peasant or not. Rose disagrees of course, but he cuts her off with a kiss. It's mild compared to what Grumpy had them doing last week.

This kiss is like a peck.

Well, there's _some_ noises, and Emma has to throw her arms around Killian's neck, but it's a dream compared to the sex scenes. That is, until, Grumpy announces he's unhappy with it.

"I think it needs to be more passionate," he says. "Once again — uh — speaking for Belle."

"Actually," comes Isaac's voice. Emma shudders. She hadn't even realised he was there. "I think that's perfect."

"But—"

"I said I think it's perfect." He checks his watch. "And if I'm not mistaken, you're already running behind on scenes. It's time to move onto something else. Thank you for your work today, Emma, Killian." He nods and saunters back across the room to where he must have been residing, in the shadows.

"Uh-" Grumpy scratches the back of his head. "Uh, right. Okay then, guys. Take five. We'll review it and- uh- yeah, move on."

Killian and Emma exchange glances.

* * *

Emma is just on the way to her trailer, ready to settle down with a film, a bowl of popcorn and Elsa, when Killian grabs her arm. She spins around at his touch, eyebrows raised. The movement makes her feel sick and she shakes her head to clear the dizziness. It does little to help.

"Yeah?"

Though one look at his expression and she knows what he's about to ask. She doesn't know whether it's the heat, but she can feel a light sheen of sweat across her forehead. She wipes it away with the back of her hand, the movement causing her head to spin.

"You're sure you're alright?"

"I'm fine."

"It's just-" He shakes his head. The sun is too hot. She has to fight to focus on his words. "If there's anything you want to tell me you can, you know." His eyes are wide, sincere, pleading, but she hardly even registers. "If there's anything, anything at all. Even if you're scared of how I might… react. I would want you to tell me, okay?"

She removes her arm from his grasp, swallowing. "I said I'm fine."

"Okay." His voice is soft. "Okay."

Emma opens her mouth to tell him, once again, to drop it but when she opens her mouth, a strong wave of nausea hits her and she - to her utter humiliation - throws up on the ground next to him.

* * *

Like a school kid, she's sent home before her sickness can contaminate the rest of the actors. She knows at once what she's got - Henry's sickness bug. She's surprised. She doesn't usually pick up his bugs - she's always had a strong immune system, ever since she was a kid - but this one is stubborn.

She spends most of Friday night next to the toilet, with her head pressed to the cold bathroom tiles, a glass of stale water next to her. She watches the bubbles rise from the bottom of the glass to the surface. That is until the image blurs and she's emptying the contents of her stomach into the toilet. She hasn't eaten much, so it's mostly water, but it burns like hell and her whole body feels like fire.

She feels a little bit better on Saturday morning. Though she continues to visit the bathroom, her visits are less frequent. To her relief, Henry is back to normal. It means the sickness should be out of her system in time for work on Monday.

Henry is good to her. She's too exhausted to move on Saturday, so she stays on the sofa all day, wrapped in her bedcovers. He tends to her, making her soup (which she finally manages to keep down), placing a cold rag on her forehead when she gets too hot, filling her glass with fresh, ice-cold water.

She doesn't feel like speaking to anyone, so he takes charge of the phone.

Killian rings a total of five times and Henry tells him what he tells him every time. That Emma's exhausted and she doesn't want to talk to anyone, not now. Yes, she's fine. She just has a stomach bug and she should probably be back on Monday. No, there's no need to come over. Finally, he gives up, and Emma feels relieved enough to go back to sleep.

She sleeps the rest of the day. When she wakes up again, she feels fine, if a little weak.

* * *

 **Killian**

* * *

Killian is restless all day on Monday as he waits for Emma to turn up. He fidgets during hair and makeup, which causes Ariel to snap at him. He's sloppy with his lines and slow with his acting. He can hardly eat anything, not when his stomach flutters as it does. Despite Henry's reassurances that Emma's fine, he doesn't quite believe it. Because he knows something that he very much doubts Henry knows.

Emma is pregnant.

He'd become suspicious after that time in her trailer. He was surprised - not because Emma was so enthusiastic, though that was a first, especially on set - but because usually when it's the end of the month, Emma puts a stop to all activities. That's when Killian buys her chocolate and brings his water bottle to set, because he knows that's what she likes when she's on her period.

But her period never came.

Maybe he had gotten it wrong. It wasn't _his_ body, after all and she knew her own body best. He might have miscalculated the dates, but days passed and she still hadn't commented on the lack of chocolate or water bottle, which she had always done before.

That's when she started avoiding him.

That's when he knew.

Well, he _thought_ he knew. He had a feeling, somewhere deep in his stomach. It was like a knot of worry, but it wasn't exactly worry. It was more like anticipation. Killian has always trusted his gut instinct and hit was screaming at him that Emma is pregnant.

Then she threw up. She claimed it was a stomach bug, but he wasn't so sure. It was too much of coincidence. Sure, she hadn't come to the phone all weekend, but that didn't mean anything; she could have been avoiding him.

Then he saw the paper.

He knows he shouldn't trust the paper, especially not _The Mirror_ and especially not the articles written by Sidney Glass.

The paper is in his trailer right now, hidden underneath a pile of books. He feels safe with it there, knowing no-one would see it if they happened to stumble in. (It's shocking how many fans or extras accidentally 'stumble in', lost). He can still remember the headline.

 _Princes and Princesses: Emma's Bundle of Joy._

He can't remember everything from it, but he can remember the gist. Apparently Emma had been overheard speaking to a friend about her pregnancy, and the friend was heard urging her to tell him, Killian.

 _When confronted by her friend, Emma's hands flew to her stomach, a tender look in her eyes. "Of course I will. We'll both be so happy…"_

And though he has to admit that doesn't sound like Emma _at all_ , there must be some truth in it.

He's still processing it.

A baby. They're going to have a _baby._

Every time he thinks the words, his head spins and his stomach knots a little more. Part of it is utter terror. How is he supposed to be a _father?_ He can hardly take care of himself at the best of times, let alone a little one. How is he supposed to step up to this?

The other part of it is excitement. He can feel it in his heart. He can find himself wondering about them. Will they be a boy? A girl? There's one thing he's sure of; whoever they are, he will protect them with everything in him.

But _bloody hell_ , how is he supposed to do this?

Then a thought strikes him.

Would they move in together? Surely, they'd have to. It's a huge step, considering they haven't even admitted they love each other yet.

He drags his hands through his hair. His heart is racing.

 _Bloody hell._

No, he can do it. He loves her. He can do this. He knows he can. He just needs to grow up a little bit, is all. He'll need to stop drinking so much. And stop swearing.

 _Bloody hell,_ he thinks again and immediately laughs out loud. A few of the crew turn to look at him, eyebrows raised. He waves them away.

That's when he spots her walking onto set, her dress flowing with every step, and everything in him softens. She looks so beautiful - glowing, almost - and she smiles at a few of the crew members as she passes them. There's a spring in her step.

 _She wants this as much as I do,_ he thinks and then laughs again because seconds ago he wasn't even sure he wanted it at all. He runs his hand across his jaw.

She stops in front of him, a radiant smile on her face. "Hey Killian," she says, looking up at him through her eyelashes. God, she's beautiful. _Bloody hell, bloody hell, bloody hell._ "How are you doing?"

"I'm good, thank you." He smiles back at her. He can't help himself; her smile is infectious. "What about you? How are you feeling?"

"Oh _much_ better. Whatever it was, it's passed now."

"You think?"

"Uhuh." She smiles again and flips her hair over her shoulder. "Actually, I have something to tell you."

And just like that, his chest tightens and his stomach is in knots again. He glances around at all the crew members and extras, anyone who could possibly listen in. Sidney's source might be here.

"Maybe we should go somewhere more… private."

"Okay?"

They go in the corridor. Killian can feel the blood rushing in his ears with every step. They come to a stop underneath the air conditioning, but Killian hardly notices. He can hardly think over the sound of his own heart. There's no-one about, bar the occasional intern running past with coffee, but they pay no attention to Emma and Killian.

"Look," she begins. She folds her arms, glancing down at her feet. "I don't know how you're going to feel about this…"

"I know."

She frowns. "You… know?"

He nods. "And I already know how I feel." It's best to be honest. That's what she needs right now; not someone who is going to beat about the bush. She needs certainty. She needs to know he's there for her. "It's all going to be alright."

Her frown deepens. "It is?"

He takes her hands in his own and looks into her eyes. "Aye. That I'm sure of." He brushes his thumbs over the knuckles and gives her a reassuring squeeze.

She smiles, though it doesn't seem very natural. She seems confused. "Great…" she says, slowly. "Graham will be happy."

Killian frowns. He has to make sure he's heard her properly. "Sorry, what? Graham?"

"Uh, yeah?"

"Why would Graham be thrilled about our baby?"

Emma snatches her hands from Killian's, taking a step back. " _What?_ " It makes him flinch.

"What?"

Her eyes are wide, her face paling. "I meant our meal." She speaks slowly, so he doesn't miss any word. "Graham and Ruby want to go on a double date with us. What the _hell_ are you talking about? What baby? What?"

The knot in his stomach twists again, but this time for a very different reason. He can feel the beginnings of humiliation creeping through his veins as he says, "You're not-" His voice falters. "... pregnant?" How did he get it so wrong?

" _No._ "

"But your period- it's late."

She shakes her head, eyes still wide. "I got it this morning. It's late but I got it."

Colour creeps up Killian's neck. "The article…"

The article had confirmed it for him. He'd read it in utter shock, but he was beginning to become so excited. So why is it that all he can feel is relief? And a strange emptiness he hadn't expected.

He was so _sure._

God, he's an idiot.

"Well-" He swallows thickly. "Maybe in the future…" He intends it to be a joke but her eyes widen at his words in complete and utter horror.

"I have to go," she says. She's uncomfortable, he can feel it. He places a hand on her arm, but she jerks away from him. "I have to go," she repeats. "I'm having lunch with August."

"Emma-"

But she disappears down the corridor before he can stop her.

* * *

 **Sorry this took so long!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

* * *

Emma tries to keep it as professional as possible with Killian. After their awkward baby conversation — the only thing Emma can really call it — she's unable to look at him properly. Not because she's angry at him in any way, but because she's still reeling from the embarrassment. Even after Regina's odd little warnings, she'd never sat down and actually thought about what would happen if she ended up pregnant, or how Killian would react. Or how _she_ would react.

But that's something she should have factored in from the start.

Killian, out of sheer humiliation it seems, is ignoring her. Well, not exactly ignoring her. They still do their scenes. Unlike the last time they went through a rough patch, their acting is up to scratch. Granted, they weren't even together at that point, and there was lots of yearning involved. But as for relationship-y stuff, it might as well be non-existent. Killian no longer calls her, or invites her around. He no longer tries to kiss her. He doesn't even hold her hand.

His lack of warmth sends a spark of annoyance through her. Why can't he just be a man about it?

Then again, she's not exactly manning up either. She knows she'll probably have to swallow her pride and talk to him. But if she thought that she would lose him, if she believed this little hiccup to be serious, she would have spoken to him by now. She tells herself she's just biding her time, but she's not even sure that's the case.

That's why she sits in the cafeteria, her chin resting in her hand, miserable and alone when August finds her. He's dressed in his normal clothes; blue jeans, a simple shirt and a leather jacket. She's itching to know what costume he's going to wear for the show. That's one of the things she loves about Kings and Queens — the costumes.

He spots her at the same time she spots him, and his whole face lights up. He points to the line and then to the sandwich in his hand and she gets the message. A few minutes later, the chair scrapes next to her and August falls down into his seat, dropping a sandwich, a water and a chocolate bar on the table. He pushes the chocolate bar over to her.

"For you," he says.

She looks at him, then at the chocolate, and then back up at him again. "Okay?"

"A little birdie told me cookies and cream is your favourite."

She raises her eyebrows. "And who might that little birdie be?"

"Elsa. I bribed her to get information about you."

"Stalker much?"

He laughs. "Believe it or not, you are a hard woman to get to know, Emma Swan. And your friends are loyal. I had to promise her a year's supply of doughnuts before I could get her to talk, and even then she didn't. I had to make other promises on top of that."

"Which were?"

"A year's supply of coffee too."

Emma smiles. "Sounds like Elsa."

"She also had to make sure my intentions were honourable. According to her, she can't give your secrets to just anyone."

Emma felt a small flame of pride in her chest at his words. It had taken her a while to find a friend as loyal as Elsa. Except maybe Mary Margaret, but she was more like family.

Emma watches as he shrugs his jacket off his shoulders, revealing his short-sleeved shirt from underneath. He sighs, leaning back in the chair, swiping his water off the table.

"So why," she begins, sliding the chocolate bar closer towards her, "are you so desperate for my secrets?"

"Believe it or not, I want to be your friend."

"Why?"

"Because... " He pauses. "We're going to be spending a lot of time with each other." He unscrews the cap and brings the water bottle to his lips. "And I don't have that many friends. I could do with a few more." He swigs from the bottle.

She narrows her eyes, though she feels a flicker of kinship within her. He sounds like someone she used to know — a cold, closed-off version of herself before she found friends. Before she found Killian.

"What kind of guy doesn't have friends?" she asks.

"The kind of guy who never stays in one place." When she tilts her head in question, he chuckles. "Not a stalker, not a loner, but a traveller."

Emma raises her eyebrows. "Traveller, huh?" She hadn't expected that.

"Indeed. To be honest, acting hadn't even crossed my mind up until a few years ago. I hadn't wanted to settle down. I didn't want the day job. I wanted to see the world— all of it, in all its glory. The good, the bad and the beautiful."

"Then what happened?" She doesn't know why she's so captivated by his words. Usually when someone starts talking, she cuts herself off. She doesn't want to know more about them; she doesn't want to be friends. But August, and the way he talks, softly, draws her in.

"I got tired of travelling. I dabbled in writing for a bit and don't get me wrong, I _love_ writing, but if I finally wanted to settle down, it didn't pay the bills. So I went for acting."

"You wanted to pay the bills, so you went for a job that means you'll never have a sure income." She laughs. "That's a pretty big risk."

"What can I say? I'm a risk taker." His smile is hidden only when he takes another sip of his water. "I thought I'd try it. I'd give myself four years, and if it didn't pay, I'd give up."

"Wow, you got lucky quick."

"It's not what you know. It's who you know."

"You knew someone in the business?"

He nods. "I guess I've always been lucky." He shakes his head. "But I've gotta say, I miss travelling. I haven't been away for a few years now and I miss it. I miss the _food_ , the culture, the women—"

She smirks. "You're a ladies' man? Figures."

He raises his eyebrows. "Not unlike your boyfriend, I take it." Upon seeing her expression, he's quick to fix it. "I don't mean any offence, Emma. He cares about you, anyone can see that. It was just a joke, that's all."

"You two would get on," she says.

"I've not spoken to him much, but I plan to. Maybe I'll buy him chocolate too."

She throws back her head and laughs, surprised by herself. It's just the idea of August buying chocolate for Killian.

"I mean—" he says, chuckling himself. "Gods need offerings, don't they?"

She continues to laugh. 'What, you think he's some kind of God?"

"Don't _you?_ "

She laughs again, shaking her head. "I don't know."

"I mean, in terms of acting, the guy is amazing. I can't believe he hasn't won an Oscar yet."

"I guess he has to do some films for that."

"Maybe he'll have some free time soon." His eyes sparkle. "You never know."

"You never know."

"Speaking of acting…" His voice lowers and he looks away, almost embarrassed. He runs his hand along his jaw, against his stubble in a very Killian-like way. "I wonder when we're gonna do some scenes."

"You haven't received the schedule?"

"I have but I've only looked at today." He makes a 'whoops' face.

"We're scheduled for a scene this week, in the studio. Have you even read the scripts?"

"Of course I have." He laughs. "We meet in the Throne Room, yeah?"

She nods. "Edmund is going to be received by Alexander, right?"

"Right!" His eyes fly to the clock and he bites his lip, making an 'oops' face. "Looks like I've gotta go. I have make-up in ten."

"You don't wanna be late. Let me tell you, you don't wanna get on Ariel's bad side."

"Noted." He rises, his chair scraping against the floor again. It's so unpleasant, Emma almost covers her ears. August offers her a grimace at the noise, before his face relaxes into that easy grin she's becoming accustomed to. "Anyway, Emma. I'll see you soon. I can't wait for our scenes."

"I'll see you soon." She's still smiling as she watches him go.

Then she remembers Killian, and their non-argument, and her stomach sinks.

* * *

Killian still doesn't speak to Emma non-professionally the rest of the week. He keeps his voice polite, his tone consistent. The tension is particularly thick in the few hours before that scene with August.

August is yet to show up, so the only other actor she knows is Killian. He sits on his throne, crown on his head, script on his lap. He must be going over his lines— his lips moving silently, his eyes flickering as they follow the words. She almost doesn't want to disturb him, he looks so peaceful and handsome. But she needs to say _something_ to him.

"Killian, hey," she says as she walks up the stairs.

She has to pick up her dress as she walks. He glances up as she approaches her, his eyes blinking at being disturbed, and he smiles. It's a tired smile, but it's a smile, and it's genuine. She hasn't seen one for a while.

She sits in the second throne next to him. "How are you doing?"

"Not too bad, thank you. Just learning these lines. I'm not sure I've memorised them all."

"You'll do great."

"I hope so."

They descend into an uncomfortable silence and Killian goes back to his script. Emma noticed that his lips aren't moving anymore, and his eyes aren't flickering. He's not reading— he's just using it as an excuse so he doesn't have to talk to her. The thought makes her feel a little cold. Out of all the people she knows, he's the one person who shouldn't be avoiding her, or ignoring her.

She's not sure she can stand it any more.

"Killian," she begins, softly.

"Yes?"

She swallows, thinking how to phrase her words. This is… difficult for her. She's never been the one to do the talking, or to breach the uncomfortable subjects. It's always been the other people in her life and in terms of their friendship, it was always him.

But they're in a relationship now and people have to work for relationships, or they lose them. The thought of losing Killian is unthinkable.

"We should… talk."

He looks up at her. He fixes her with an empty smile. It doesn't quite reach his blue eyes. "About what, love?"

"About the misunderstanding." It's the only word she can think of to describe it as. About the baby? There was no baby.

"There's nothing to talk about. I thought you were pregnant, but you were not. It was a shock, but it doesn't matter now." He flips a page of his script, repeating, "Nothing to talk about."

She frowns. Okay, so she wasn't pregnant, but it was a _big_ thing. It's enough to shake up any relationship.

"So why are you avoiding me?" she asks.

He keeps his eyes on the page as he says, "I'm not avoiding you, Swan."

"Look, I _know_ what avoiding people looks like. This… this is avoiding." _Don't play me for an idiot, Killian,_ she wants to say, but she doesn't. She bites her tongue. It's best to keep it civil.

"I don't know what you mean."

"I think you do." Alright, evidence. She needs evidence. She lowers her voice. "We haven't been on a date for a while. You haven't been round my house, and I haven't been round yours." It's true. Usually they were staying round each other's houses non-stop.

She doesn't expect him to look up at her, directly into her eyes, and offer one of those empty smiles again. "And whose fault, may I ask, is that?"

For once, she's shocked into silence. She hadn't expected that answer. She'd expected him to nod solemnly, to agree in that way he always does.

"I— Well— You haven't texted me." As soon as the words leave her lips, she realises how schoolgirl-ish they sound, and she cringes.

"No? Maybe I should have replied to the texts _you_ sent _me_ then," he says, looking back down at his scripts. "Or answered the mountains of calls I'd missed, or perhaps answered the door when you knocked. Or maybe I should have returned all the affection you showed me?"

"Killian—" She feels her voice falter.

"What's the matter, Swan?"

"I was giving you space." Her voice is soft.

"Were you?"

Emma isn't sure what to say. She sits back on the throne, hands in her lap, limp. She hadn't expected this turn of events. Every time she has reached out to him before, he's been quick to comply, quick to apologise. _Maybe he doesn't feel as I do,_ says a tiny voice in her head. _Maybe he doesn't love you?_

She shakes the feeling away. She doesn't need to feel insecure right now, thank you very much.

"You guys look like the king and queen!" a voice shouts from the edge of the set. Their eyes glance down to see August walking towards them, holding out his arms, a smile on his face. "True royalty."

Emma gives him a small smile before she turns back to Killian. She keeps her voice low, as to not be overheard. "Look, I don't know what's going on with you. All I know is that things were great, and then they weren't. We were good, _really_ good, and I wanna get back to that. I—' She sighs. "I care about you, Killian." He keeps his eyes fixed on the script. "But I'm not gonna follow you around like some whiny teenager. So either you suck it up and talk to me about your problems, or you end it. Because I'm not gonna sit around, wondering whether we're still together."

And on that note, she rises, lifting her skirts with her. She makes her way down the stairs and plasters the biggest smile on her face as she meets August. Though when he studies her, his face falls, just a little.

"You alright?" he asks.

She keeps the smile on her face as she says, "Fine."

She can tell he doesn't believe her, but he doesn't say anything else. So she tries to keep her voice light as she says, "Nice costume."

"Thank you."

He twirls on the step and comes to a stop in front of her, bowing. She can see why he's an actor.

He wears a lot of leather; leather tunic, leather pants, leather boots. He also wears a floor-sweeping cloak made of velvet. Emma rubs the material through her fingers. It's nicer than hers, and a much better quality. The costume budget must have gone up this year. Like Killian's character, August wears a variety of silver rings and jewels. A necklace hangs around his neck, sparkling in the light.

"I've gotta say, I love it," August says. "It makes me feel like a whole other person."

Emma folds her arms. "Not too shabby."

He laughs. "Not too shabby at all."

She's about to make a comment about how ridiculous his leather boots look, when she catches a tall, thin, rake-like woman walk — no, _strut_ — onto set. She wears a ridiculous fur coat over a tight dress. But that isn't the most ridiculous thing about her. It's her hair, which is half black and half white. She holds a cigarette in one hand, puffing out clouds of smoke.

"Who the hell is that?" Emma murmurs.

August turns, his face immediately dropping into a frown. "I have no idea."

"No smoking in here," Mulan, the coordinator, tells her. She bats the smoke away with her free hand, the other clasped around a folder.

"It's prescription, darling," the woman says.

"I'm pretty sure that's not a thing."

The woman ignores her, but struts over to Isaac, who has taken to hiding in the corners like some sort of vampire, and opens her arms for him. "Isaac! My love!"

"Cruella." He steps out of the shadows, that smirk on his face. They meet in the middle of set and embrace, kissing each other soundly on the lips. Emma tries not to cringe. "I'm so glad you could make it."

"You know me. I wouldn't miss it for the _world._ "

"I had hoped that would be the case."

During the course of their conversation, everyone had turned to see the Isaac and the woman — _Cruella_ — embrace in the middle of the set. Though their eyes are are mainly on Cruella, and the hideous thing on her head.

"Do you think it's a wig?" August murmurs from between his teeth. "Should we rip it off?"

Emma has to hide her snort in her sleeve.

When it becomes apparent that everyone is watching them, Isaac turns, hand on the small of Cruella's back. That rat-like smile still hasn't left his face. If anything, it becomes wider with every second. "If I can have your attention," he begins, even though the room is full of silence. "I'd like you all to meet Cruella, a very good friend of mine."

"Hello, everyone," Cruella says with a curtsey. It's only then that Emma realises she has a ridiculous British accent. Like movie-ridiculous.

"She's to be our new assistant director."

There's an outcry from the whole room. Murmurings of whats and whys and also whos. Why hadn't they been told they were getting another director? Surely, Belle would have mentioned it. And why drop her in the middle of a scene? Surely, she should have come in when Isaac joined the crew.

"I wasn't aware we were getting another director?" Killian says. Emma jumps— she hadn't realised he was right behind her.

"Settle down," Grumpy bellows. "Though some of us— I mean, some of the crew wanted to tell you about Cruella, others thought it should be a surprise. We didn't mean to shock or startle any of you. But I'm sure Cruella will be an asset to the team." He sounds like he's reading from a script. All stunted.

"Thank you, darling. Thank you," Cruella says. "I do look forward to… getting to know all of you." Is it Emma's imagination, or do her eyes land on Killian? "That's all I'll say for now. I won't disrupt your work any more."

"Thank you, Cruella," Isaac says, and begins to clap. No-one joins in.

It takes a few moments for the chatter to build up again in the room and when it finally does, Emma can guess at what everyone is talking about. More than once, she'll see an extra or a crew member's eyes flash to Cruella, and she can see a question in their eyes that she longs to know herself. _What is this woman doing here?_

But before she can really reflect on it, Grumpy is calling for positions and they're rolling the camera.

The scene is a short one. Killian is sat on the throne for most of it, and August is stood in front, his advisors at either side of him. Emma stands near the servants at the side of the thrones, but she can feel the camera on her face. She doesn't have much of a speaking role in this— one line or two at the end when she finally comes face-to-face with August's character, Edmund. Up until then, all her emotions must be shown on her face.

" _Action_ ," Grumpy yells from his chair off set.

"Thank you, your grace, for allowing me into your home," August says, with a slow bow of the head. "I will be forever in your debt."

"Think nothing of it," Killian says, with a wave of his hand. "My home is yours for now."

"Thank you." Another bow of the head.

"And what is mine is yours for now."

"Your Grace is too kind."

Killian sits up straight in his chair. Emma will never get over this— she'll never get over seeing him in full costume, sitting on his throne. It makes her heart flutter.

"The feast will begin at 8 o'clock but first, you must rest. You will be shown to your bedchamber where you can bathe and change into fresh clothes. You must be tired after your journey."

Emma zones in and out of the conversation, but keeps her hands clasped together and keeps her eyes fixed on the men in front of her. Her feet are already starting to ache from standing so long and she shifts them, trying to be as graceful as possible.

Thankfully, they only do the take another few times. They're good at it, natural, and they work well together. She only has to endure the ache in her feet for a small while until Grumpy is calling cut and demanding they move onto the next part of the scene.

When their break comes, Emma's feet are killing her. Without Killian to keep her company, Emma goes to watch a movie in her trailer on her own. It fills her with cold, but she meant what she said. She will _not_ follow him around like a little, lost, lovesick puppy. If he refuses to talk to her then so be it. She's said her piece.

The next scene they film, a feast, is in the dining room. Killian sits at the top end of the table and on his left, August, the esteemed guest. Emma catches Elsa's eye from her table and they smile at each other.

Emma is in the midst of pouring wine into everyone's goblets when the camera starts rolling. She makes her way slowly up to the end of the table, filling, filling, filling, until she reaches Killian and August. She begins with Killian's glass, but he makes no gesture towards her, nothing to suggest their relationship. Then she moves onto August.

"Have I seen you before?" August asks her.

Emma frowns in surprise. "I doubt it, my lord."

"But your face. It looks oddly familiar."

Emma looks away, embarrassed. She doesn't say anything else, but just pours the wine.

"What is your name?"

"Rose, my lord."

"A beautiful name."

Emma raises her eyes and meets Killian's from across the table. He frowns, but the expression is entirely Killian. She has seen the very same one in his eyes many times before. Before anyone can say anything else, Emma turns to leave and Grumpy calls for a cut.

"Amazing!" comes an unrecognisable voice and everyone turns to see that new Cruella person standing, clapping her gloved hands together. "Amazing, darlings!" The clapping is loud and echoey. "Beautiful, darlings! Amazing chemistry. I could feel the _heat_ coming off you!"

Isaac rises also. "I am inclined to agree. Do you think we should move onto part two?"

"You ought to get writing those scripts."

Emma and August exchange looks and shrug. Emma doesn't know what 'part two' is and she's not sure she wants to find out.

They only have to do that scene a few more times, since it's only a short scene. She's glad she won't have to film the rest of the feast; big scenes like this almost always give her a headache.

So she leaves set, changes her costume, and decides to go home.

Alone.

* * *

 **This was SO fun to write! Mainly because of Cruella. I really didn't realise how fun she is. I might put her in all my fics. XD**

 **Also I'm so excited for you guys to see the next chapter! Seriously, I think you're gonna love it. *Squee*! I am very tempted to post again tonight! Or tomorrow. What do you think?**


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

* * *

Emma doesn't go straight home, but to Mary Margaret's, where she knows hot chocolate and cookies will await her. Even though she hasn't let them know she's dropping by, the front door opens before she even has time to knock. Mary Margaret stands there, dressed in a loose jumper and pale pink pyjama bottoms.

"Okay?" Emma says, then laughs a little awkwardly. "Psychic, much?"

"I've learned to recognise the sound of your car," she says, as she disappears into the house. Emma follows at her heels, closing the door softly behind her. "What can I do for you?"

"I just kinda needed some company." She follows her into the kitchen.

Mary Margaret immediately fills a pan with milk and places it on the stove to boil. Emma sits at the table, watching as she reaches for two mugs from the cupboard, setting them on the side with gentle clinks.

"Of course," Mary Margaret says.

"And after the other day, what with The Mirror overhearing our conversation about…"

She whirls around, fixing her big, doe-like eyes on Emma. "Oh, Emma… I'm so sorry. If I had any idea that was going to happen, I wouldn't have encouraged you to confide in me."

Emma shakes her head. "Don't worry about it. I thought we were safe too, but I guess we weren't. I _still_ don't know where they could have been sat to overhear… I thought we were pretty secluded."

"What about a bug?"

"No, I don't think so." The thought had crossed Emma's mind, but she'd weighed the pros and cons of using a bug, and the consequences of getting caught. "It's illegal."

"Well, you can rest assured knowing there are no bugs here." But just to be sure, Mary Margaret ducks her head under the kitchen table.

Emma can't bring herself to laugh. After today, after acting, after Killian, she doesn't have the energy to be amused. She just sighs, looking down at her hands, feeling the ache in her feet after a day of non-stop standing. After this she'll probably go home, make some pasta, run a bubble bath, and have an early night. She can face her problems tomorrow. But right now, she just doesn't want to be alone.

"Are you okay?" Mary Margaret asks, throwing a look over her shoulder as she stirs the milk.

"Nope."

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

"Nope."

"That's okay."

She finishes making the hot chocolate, humming to herself as she does so. With her back turned, Emma doesn't know _exactly_ what she's doing, but when she turns around, there are two glorious designs in her hands. Mugs, filled to the brim with hot chocolate, a mountain of whipped cream floating on the surface. Of course, the cream is dusted with cinnamon, but also, embedded in the fluffy white substance is a chocolate bar and three wafers. Each.

"Wow," Emma says as her friend places the mug down in front of her. "Are you _trying_ to give me a heart attack?"

Mary Margaret lowers herself into the chair opposite Emma. "Just trying to make you feel better, that's all. In the best way I can."

"I'm not complaining." She pulls the mug towards her and picks up the chocolate bar, swiping a dollop of cream from the top of her drink. "So where's David?"

"Oh, he's at a meeting with Ruby. Something about a new audition."

"And Hope?"

A smile crosses her face. "Sleeping soundly. But that won't last long."

Emma chews her chocolate thoughtfully. "She looks just like you, y'know. She has your button nose."

"You mean the one we both have?"

Emma and Mary Margaret often joke that they look so similar, they could be related. They share the same nose, the same cheekbones and near enough the same eyes. They could probably pass for sisters. That is, until they count the hair which is the complete opposite in style and in colour.

Emma presses her leg against the table leg just in time to feel her phone vibrate between the two, echoing in the kitchen.

"Is that your man?" Mary Margaret asks, sipping her hot chocolate. She emerges from the drink with a cream moustache.

"I don't know."

She reaches for her phone and pulls it up onto the table. Sure enough, the word _Killian_ flashes up onto her screen. He's already left her three voicemails. The first, _You were right._ The second, _We need to talk_ , and the third, _When can I see you?_

Part of Emma wants to slam the phone down or throw it out a window, the way she has done so many times when douche-bag guys in the past have wronged her. But Killian is _not_ that kind of guy. He is smart and he is kind and he is loving. His behaviour the past week has been entirely out of character— even she can admit that. Her heart swells with something she hasn't felt for the past week; hope.

"You're smiling. It _is_ Killian."

Well, she wouldn't call it a smile. More like a twitch of her lips. She types out a quick reply: _At Mary Margaret's RN. Not sure when I'll be back._ _We can talk soon._

She finishes the rest of her hot chocolate, feeling a little bit happier in herself, a little bit lighter in her chest. If Mary Margaret notices her change in mood, she doesn't say anything, but just sips her hot chocolate, enquiring about her friend's life.

Emma brings her up to date on the work situation. She mentions August, who seems nice enough, but seems hell bent on 'getting to know her', and Isaac, who likes to lurk in the shadows, biding his time.

"I don't know, Mary Margaret," she says, shaking her head. "I don't like it."

Mary Margaret draws in her bottom lip, tilting her head in thought. 'Y'know, I'm here a lot now thanks to Hope, and I never know what to do with my free time. Sometimes I think about starting a project, making something, but I'm afraid that if I start something new, then I'll never finish it because Hope needs around the clock care."

"Okay?" Emma says, unsure where she's going with this.

"But I _think_ I might have found my new project." When Emma raises her eyebrows, she smiles. "Isaac. I'm gonna research him and see what I can find out about him."

"You are?"

She nods. "You've already told me you have a bad feeling about him and I've got to say, I do too."

"Well, let me know what you find." She'd be interested to see what dirty secrets Mary Margaret pulls up. She's willing to bet that he has a shady past. Everyone does, even her — especially her — and all it takes are a few steps to dig up a few things. Unless this guy is incredibly good at covering his tracks.

Emma leaves not long after, when her stomach starts to grumble. The pasta seems more appetizing the more time goes on. She hugs her friend, tightly, once again asking her to let her know as soon as she finds something.

"I will!"

They break apart and Emma opens the door to rain splintering down onto the pavement. She's surprised; she hadn't heard it in Mary Margaret's cosy house but then again, she should have expected it. The air has been too humid these past few weeks. It was bound to break at some point.

* * *

It seems food and a bath is out of the question because when Emma's rolls up outside her house, there's a figure sat on her doorstep. At first her heart jolts and her stomach drops. She can't make out who it is, because they're shrouded in rain and darkness. But the figure stands when they see the bug and steps into light.

It's Killian, holding his jacket above his head. Though the damage is done; he is already soaked to the skin. She sees him call, "Swan!" through the darkness.

Emma cuts the engine and grabs her jacket from the back seat. She holds it above her head as she runs out into the rain, kicking the yellow door behind her. She runs up the path and he meets her halfway. In the light, she can see raindrops running down his face, into his soaking T-shirt.

"Are you _insane_?" She shouts over the sound of the rain, sliding her hand into her pocket her her keys. It's a struggle to get her hand in there— the material is already made tight by the rain soaking through to her skin, and she hasn't even been out here five minutes.

"Just an optimist," he shouts back. He has the audacity to laugh. "I was hoping the rain would stop."

Thunder booms around them. They both look up into the sky. A few seconds later, the sky flashes yellow with lightning.

"How long have you been out here?" She yells.

"About half an hour."

"You _are_ insane."

"I needed to see you."

For a few seconds, they stare at each other in the rain, listening to more thunder boom above them. Then, with a triumphant pull, her hand comes loose from her jeans, fingers curled around the key.

"Come on in."

She turns to the door and shoves the key in the lock, rain pounding in her ears. She can feel him right behind her, puffing out breaths, shivering. Then, with a too-forceful push, the door swings open and they step into the warmth, boots squelching.

The first thing Emma does is march into the bathroom and throw her red leather jacket into the bath. It'll dry, and it won't leave that wet-dog smell rain always does. She does the same with her boots, and she's happy to see that her socks are dry. The same can't be said for the rest of her.

When she gets back into the hallway, Killian is stood there, still in his wet things. If she thought _she_ was soaked, it is _nothing_ compared to the man in front of her. Water continues to drip down him, from his hair, from his skin, and onto the floor, where he leaves a puddle at his feet. She can't see a single part of him that isn't soaked through. Underneath his jacket, she can see that his shirt sticks to his body, and his jeans are dark with water. Every time he moves — not that he moves much, he seems to be avoiding getting anything wet — his skin glistens in the light, pale and damp.

"Are you insane?" She says again, though this time, softly. "I told you we would talk soon."

"Ah." He gives her a smile. "Your soon and my soon appear to be very different."

"This isn't a joke, Killian."

"I know."

She sighs, massaging her forehead with her hand. She can still see him out the corner of hers, shivering, trembling, trying not to show it. She know she should be angry, and a part of her is. He should have waited for her say-so. They should have done this on her terms, not on his, where she'd be given no choice but to speak to him. But the bigger part of her, the softer part of her, can't help but feel sorry for him.

"Take off your clothes," she sighs, still rubbing her forehead.

"... What?"

"You're not seriously asking me that, are you?" She looks up at him. "If you stay in those things, you'll catch a cold or the flu or _something_ and Grumpy will sue me because he's the director and you will have gotten sick on my watch." When he just looks at her, she sighs again. "Or stay in your wet clothes. Freeze to death, for all I care. I'm not your mom. Do what you want."

He does as she says, shrugging the jacket from his shoulders. Before he has chance to ask where he should put it, she whisks it out of his hands. She only just catches a glimpse of his stomach before she turns around and heads for the bathroom, where she chucks his jacket in the tub, with a lot less care than with hers.

After that, she makes her way into the bedroom and opens her chest of drawers. Killian has already taken to leaving a few spare clothes in her house, thanks to the amount of times he's spontaneously stayed over. She fishes out a clean pair of boxers and socks from her chest of drawers. Next, she grabs him a shirt and some jogging bottoms, knowing the last thing he probably wants to wear is jeans.

When she returns, clothes in her arms, he's still in the hallway, dressed in his boxers. He looks so funny that she almost laughs, but she thinks better of it. She keeps a straight face as she thrusts the clothes and a towel at him. Next, she picks up his wet garments and balls them up in her arms.

"Swan—" But she's already whipped out the door.

She shoves his wet clothes into the washing machine and rises to see him stood in the doorway, in the sweat pants she gave him. He watches her as he unfolds his shirt, but she does her best to ignore him. She focuses on putting the detergent and the softener in the machine.

"Emma?"

When she looks up at him, he's wearing the shirt. His eyes are soft.

"Thank you."

"No problem," she says, and turns back to the washing machine.

She pulls her own shirt from over her head and stuffs it in the machine, leaving her only in her bra, but she doesn't care. She brushes past him into the bedroom, and he doesn't follow, leaving her to change into something drier in peace. She decides on a shirt and some pyjama pants.

When she emerges from the bedroom, he's stood in the living room, waiting for her.

She leans on the living room doorway, arms folded, frowning. "Okay, you said we should talk. So talk."

He swallows. "I was cruel."

She nods. She'll accept that— he _was_ cruel.

"No, I was worse than cruel." He takes a step towards her, but she doesn't move. She remains leaned on the doorframe, feet planted firmly on the floor. "I have been…" He lowers his eyes. "Not _exactly_ avoiding you, but…" He shakes his head. "I was scared. I was annoyed you hadn't told me. I was _furious_ at the media. About what they said, about the lies they spun and I took it out on you. I'm sorry _._ "

She doesn't say anything, but just watches him. Is that good enough? She's not sure. He's not entirely to blame either, if she's honest with herself. She should have reached out to him. She should have sent him a text or _something_ to let him know she was alright— that _they_ were alright.

"I'm sorry too," she eventually says.

"You don't have to apologise." He takes another step towards her. "You have nothing to apologise for." Then he's right in front of her, inches away from her, and she's drowning in his eyes. "You were right. Everything you said, it was right. And what you said… it helped me."

She frowns. "Helped you?"

"Aye." His voice is very soft, almost hard to hear. "It gave me the courage that I need."

"Courage?"

"I love you, Emma."

The jolt to her heart is so powerful, it renders her speechless. She does the only thing she can do, the only thing she's done for her whole life, and steps back, away from him. But if she thinks he's going to let her run, she's sorely mistaken. He immediately takes a step towards her and gently takes her face in his hands, pulling her attention back to him.

"No— I don't say that to pressure you. I say it because it's true and you need to hear it." He strokes her hair. All she can do is look back at him, even though she knows that if she stepped back, he would release her at once. "I know you need… time." His forehead comes to rest against hers, still stroking her hair. "And I'll give you that, I promise. Take all the time you need. But you need to know that I'm in it for the long haul, regardless of how many arguments we may have, or how many… shocks we may have. I love you."

He was right. She _does_ need to hear it. She closes her eyes, keeping her forehead pressed against his, feeling his slow breaths in and out. She feels like she can breathe easier too, now she knows that he's going to give her time.

So she does the only thing she can do to show him how much he means to her. She closes the gap between them and presses her lips on his. And all is forgiven.

* * *

The next day Emma wakes up with a slight chill. _Damn Killian and the rain,_ she thinks, though at the thought of Killian, she smiles.

She wanted to tell him she loves him too— and part of her wishes she had, but the more practical side of her is glad she didn't. She had been so determined to tell him on their date in that beautiful restaurant, but the words got stuck in her throat and she was paralysed. That's how she felt when he told her last night. Paralysed.

She was so afraid that saying those three little words would make it realer than it already is. And then, she would lose him.

In the cold light of day, her fears seem silly, almost childish but there's still that little niggle in her heart. _What if I lose him?_ It's like every good thing she has in her life turns to dust, almost as if the universe doesn't want her to be happy. Until Henry found her again, she believed that one hundred percent. And now…

Well, she doesn't know. But she has to look at the facts. And the facts are that everyone she has ever loved has left her. Her parents abandoned her for goodness sake. That should have been the first realisation that something was wrong. Then every relationship she ever had failed. She didn't have any friends, she didn't have any family.

Is it really possible that _all_ of that can change? That she's, somehow, been dealt another hand of cards?

She tries to push it out of her mind as she gets out of bed and looks at the clock. 11 AM. At first she's surprised by how late it is — why didn't her phone alarm go off? — but then she remembers that it's Saturday and it's her day off. Henry will be back soon.

She jumps out of bed and reaches for her dressing gown. She hasn't worn it for what feels like years. It must be getting colder already. Autumn is right around the corner.

She pads down the stairs, the wood cold beneath her feet, right into the kitchen, where the glasses still reside from last night. Killian stayed for a rum or two, but not the night. They agreed it would be best if he went home, but things will resume as normal when they go back to work— carpooling and all.

She fills the coffee pot and places it on the stove before padding into the hallway to check for mail. And sure enough, there is a pile of it dropped on the floor. But the thing that catches her eyes is the big, brown envelope. _The scripts._

She walks towards them with a strange ominous feeling— her instincts are going haywire. She carries the envelope back to the kitchen with the same feeling, but she has to read it. There's no getting out of it. She rips open the brown paper until two full scripts drop out onto the wood. Only when she's poured herself a strong coffee and woken herself up a bit, does she read it. It all seems fine until she comes to one bit that makes her insides curl

 _'Rose can feel it - she's beginning to fall for Edmund. She locks eyes with Alexander. He smiles at her. There isn't that spark any more.'_

* * *

 **A day later than I promised but it's here! I hope you enjoyed it! Let me know what you think ;)**


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

* * *

Emma didn't think she'd be spending her Monday eavesdropping, but she stands with her ear pressed against Belle's office door. Well, not _exactly_ pressed, but she has no business lurking outside, listening to the voices from the other side. She wouldn't have even thought about eavesdropping, but she caught sight of Belle walking into the office, flustered, angry, with a smirking Isaac at her heels. She's willing to bet on what he's happy about.

She's already got her cover sorted. If anyone asks what she's doing, she's waiting for Belle, to ask her a few questions about the new scripts. The very same ones she holds in her hands.

"I mean, how did you _think_ you could get it by me?" Belle asks. Her voice is strained, like she's on the verge of exploding.

"I didn't need to get it by you," comes Isaac's reply. "I needed to get it by the network and they happened to approve."

"This is ridiculous. We didn't agree on this when we had that meeting. I thought you'd already told me your plans for the show — _all_ your plans for it. I didn't think I'd open the script to see _this_ on the first page."

"The seventh page, unless I'm mistaken."

"I don't give a _damn_ about what page it's on," she snaps. Emma blinks in surprise. She hasn't heard Belle talk to _anyone_ like this. Ever. "All I care is that it didn't go through _me._ " There's the sound of skin hitting wood, like a fist on a table.

A pause.

"Forgive me, Miss French but you don't get the final say here. I do. As far as I'm concerned, I don't have to tell you anything. And if you continue to act so… rudely… in the future, I think you'll find that I won't tell you a thing."

There's a silence. A long one. Emma feels a bubble of anger in her chest. How dare _anyone_ speak to Belle like that.

When Belle breaks the silence and her voice is calm and logical. "You can't just _break_ up Alexander and Rose. They are the main couple. There are millions of viewers invested in this relationship. The love they get… it's astounding. They're the _main_ reason this show is still afloat and you want to get rid of that?"

"Well, according to the network, they are the sole reason ratings have been dropping."

Emma's heart catches in her throat. She hadn't known that. She had thought that perhaps the ratings were dropping because they'd moved onto another season. It's always the case with longer shows.

"I'm not sure I can believe that," Belle says, echoing Emma's thoughts.

"Are you calling the network liars?"

"No, I—"

"I think you best remember your place, Miss French, and remember why I'm here."

"I—"

"And let me tell you, we're not going into this blindly. We're going to keep an eye on the figures. We'll be watching them closely. And if they start to drop even more, we'll bring back Alexander and Rose. But until then…"

Not sure she can hear anymore, Emma turns away from the door. Her heart is hammering in her throat, her hands slick against the scripts. They're getting rid of Alexander and Rose. She should have expected it — shows change up their relationships all the time — but she's not sure why it leaves her with a strange emptiness.

But all hope is not lost. With a little flicker in her heart, she remembers Belle's words. Belle is still fighting their corner, and she's willing to bet that Grumpy will be too. Shaking the feeling of emptiness away, she takes a few steps away from the door, eyes cast down, not looking where she's going.

She walks straight into August.

She looks up just in time to see him flash his phone in her face, and then it's gone. She blinks. "What was that for?"

"Contact photo," he says, typing on his phone. "For you, obviously. I mean, since we're gonna be working a lot together, we should probably have each other's numbers."

She shakes her head. "Yeah, sure. Good idea."

"What's your number?"

She reels it off from memory, watching as he types it into his phone. When he's done, he beams at her.

"I'll be in touch."

"Ominous."

"I'm an ominous guy." They both laugh and then he looks up at her again. "Do you wanna… take a selfie?"

She folds her arms, scripts still in her hands. "I don't do selfies."

"Not just this once?" She laughs and shakes her head. "C'mon, for me? I kinda wanna make it _look_ like I have friends."

"That's sad."

"I'm a sad guy." Then he winks.

Emma sighs. "Alright, fine. But if it comes out blurry, I'm not taking another one."

"Noted."

She steps close to him as he raises his phone above their heads. She puts on her best smile, catching a glimpse of her face in his phone before he snaps the picture. Then he's lowering it back to eye-level and handing it over for her so she can see.

It's not bad. They're both in their costumes, so they look cool enough for photos. And she doesn't look like she's in pain when she smiles, as she often has done in most of her photos. Mostly because she hardly ever takes photos. Ever.

She watches over his shoulder as he types in a caption— something about making new friends, and posts it for everyone to see.

"You know what?" he says when he's done. "You should get an Instagram."

She's already shaking her head. "I don't think so."

"Why not?"

"I don't do social media."

He looks at her for a moment, and she looks back. Then he says, "Lunch?"

She raises her eyebrows at the abrupt change of topic. "Sure." She's not meeting Killian for lunch today. He's doing a few scenes with Elsa, so their schedules are a little all over the place.

They begin to walk next to each other, arms brushing, as they weave in and out of crew members.

"The way I see it," August begins. "Having social media is a good thing. It gives you a chance to _control_ what's going on. Instead of the fans searching for some image of you, or some video, _you_ get to decide what to post. It keeps them satisfied, especially if you keep it updated regularly."

"Huh." She hadn't thought about it that way.

"What about Facebook?"

She wrinkles her nose. "I'm not really a Facebook person."

"At least get _twitter_."

"I'll think about it."

* * *

She makes a Twitter account later in the day when she's on her break between scenes. She sits in her trailer, cross legged on the sofa, and decides to download the app onto her phone. Part of it is boredom— she's waiting for Killian to show up. The waiting makes her restless. And now she's had time to reflect on what August said, it makes sense. She likes the idea of being in control.

The name 'Emma Swan' isn't available, so she just adds a 'Real' on the front, like she's seen other people do.

The first person she follows is Robert Downey Jr. She manages to find the other cast members easily; first Killian, then Elsa. Henry even has a twitter, but most of it is made of out retweets— he's more of a Tumblr person. She likes August's picture of them, which he also posted on Twitter. After that, she sends a kiss emoji to Killian.

He replies fast — too fast — with a "I'm on my way to your trailer love, right now ;)". She laughs out loud, shaking her head. She should have seen that one coming. That's when the tweets start flooding in, and her phone vibrates every two seconds. Hundreds of them stream in at the same time, and she scrolls down them, out of curiosity more than anything.

OMG EMMA HAS A TWITTER.

I can't believe emma finally made a twitter lol it took her long enough

Emma welcome to twitter 3

Hang on guys, he said he was going to her trailer. hE IS GOING TO HER TRAILER

#CAPTAINSWANISBACK

#CAPTAINSWAN IS REAL.

They are going in there to make out, don't me

#CAPTAINSWANISREAL I TOLD YOU

To that one, someone else replies, 'ummm…. No. just bc he's going to the trailer, it doesn't mean that they're together. They are good friends.'

To which that person replies, 'they ARE together. Look at all the evidence. They were on a date last week'

'Or maybe they were going out as friends? I'm p sure killian has a girlfriend'

Emma decides, in one moment of madness, to like all the tweets. She knows she could just put a tweet out, ending the madness, confirming their relationship, but it's fun to see them argue. Not because she likes arguing, but because it's interesting to see how much people can read into things. One fan says that she has _never_ seen Killian look at anyone else the way he looks at Emma. This pleases her. She wonders how they'd act if they knew that it was merely yesterday that Killian had told her he loved her.

She tweets back, 'Bring me coffee.' And then, 'And chocolate.'

Again he's quick to reply. 'Darling, your wish is my command.'

That's when her Twitter explodes again:

'He called her darling omg'

'HE CALLED HER DARLING'

'They are together don't even talk to me'

'I can't with these two'

'#married'

'SELFIE PLS'

'Pics or it didn't happen'

Emma is still scrolling through Twitter when there's a knock on her trailer door. She tells him to come in and he does, carrying two coffees. His hair is dishevelled, like he's been in a rush, and he's grinning from ear to ear. He places the coffees on the table and pulls a few chocolate bars from his pocket, throwing them at her.

"For you, my love."

"You are too kind."

She jumps up from the sofa and crosses the room, taking his face in her hands, placing a kiss on his lips. He returns the kiss and when he emerges, he's smiling. "What was that for?"

"I'm just really happy you're here."

His eyes crinkle. "As am I."

"C'mon. You gotta show me how to use Twitter properly. I keep liking everyone's tweets. Is that the done thing?" She takes his hand and leads him over to the sofa.

He chuckles. "If you want to give them heart attacks, then yes."

"They're mostly about us." She falls down on the sofa and pulls him with her. He throws his arm around her.

"Ah, well they would be. They think we're together."

"What gave them that impression?"

He chuckles again, and presses a chaste kiss to her forehead. "They're smart, love."

"Tell me about it. They want a picture of us, otherwise apparently they don't believe we're together?"

"I'm not surprised." He raises an eyebrow. "So how should we do this? Should I lay out seductively on your couch, should you cover me in lipstick kisses?"

She gives him a look. "C'mon, Killian."

He yanks his collar back. "A bite mark to the neck?"

" _Killian._ "

"They'll love it."

She's sure they would, if their reaction to him coming into her trailer is anything to go by.

In the end, they decide on a normal selfie. Emma smiles but Killian puts on the most sullen expression she's ever seen.

"Why?" she asks with a laugh as they stare back at it.

"I've an image to maintain, Swan." He flashes her a grin.

She doesn't say anything, but just shakes her head and posts the photo. Then her phone is blowing up again, vibrating every second. She tries to keep up with the notifications but she only gets through a few before she gives up. She turns to Killian, eyebrow raised. "So how do I stop this happening?"

* * *

They spend the majority of their time together talking. And it _feels good_ to talk. After their week of hardly speaking to each other, she finds the words bubble out of her and she can't stop. That's when she remembers Belle's conversation with Isaac. She's quick to open up to him about it.

Killian frowns."I must admit, I find that odd," he says when she's finished. "They say the ratings are dropping?"

"Isaac says the ratings are dropping. And I don't trust him."

"Nor do I." He pauses, scratching his chin in thought. "As you know, I have a Tumblr account. Most of the people I follow are huge fans of Alexander and Rose."

"You're not gonna follow people who _aren't_ fans though, are you?"

"No." He chuckles, then his face turns serious again. "Other things get reblogged onto my timeline, but they don't have nearly as many notes as we do. The love is _astounding_. And I'm not just saying that."

"That's the impression I got."

He frowns. "Never mind. The ratings will prove them wrong."

"I hope you're right."

* * *

They still have a few more weeks before the first episode of the new season airs, before they can find out what the ratings are like. Isaac takes full advantage of that. Through the door come more scripts and in the scripts are more scenes between Rose and Edmund and less between Rose and Alexander.

Emma doesn't mind _too_ much— she enjoys August's company. He makes her laugh a lot, the throw-your-head-back kind of laugh that brings on stitches and stomach aches.

The thing that _does_ annoy her is the new director, Cruella. She parades around the set in her six-inch heels, smoking her cigarette, blowing smoke in everyone's faces. If that's not bad enough, it's like she's permanently drunk. Emma's seen her pull a flask from that ridiculous coat a few times. Maybe she needs it to be able to stomach Isaac. Emma certainly would.

But the most annoying thing about Cruella is her reactions to the scenes Emma and August film. They film a particularly long one on location. The weather has turned— it's nighttime and it's _cold._ Edmund and Rose are supposed to be taking a walk in the gardens, before the castle.

With the camera rolling, August leans down and picks a flower from the grass. He rises and holds it out for her. "For you," he says, with a warm smile.

Emma hesitates — Alexander is still on Rose's mind — but she accepts the flower anyway, with a slightly shy smile. "Thank you." She breathes in the scent. "It smells beautiful." It smells like dirt to Emma.

"But it does not compare to your beauty."

It sounds like something right out of a romantic comedy. She's heard it done a million times before, the flower scene. Obviously Isaac can't think of any original ideas.

Emma leans forward and kisses August on the cheek. He smells pleasant. Not _Killian_ nice, but nice enough. "Thank you," she repeats. "Shall we go back up to the castle?"

"Yes but… I'd like to spend some more time you with, Rose. If you'll allow it."

"Why me?" She looks away from him, down at the grass, frowning. "I'm just a servant."

"You are so wrong."

She looks back up at him and they hold eyes. August smiles, but Emma doesn't.

" _Cut,_ " calls Grumpy. Emma looks over to see him checking his watch. "And that's a wrap for tonight. Great job, guys."

" _Wonderful_ ," Cruella piques up, clapping her hands. "Beautiful. Beautiful, darlings. Your chemistry is _delicious._ "

Emma would be pleased, if she hadn't heard it a million times before. She wouldn't have been surprised to think that Cruella has been paid by Isaac to say these things. But she doesn't have the energy to dwell on it tonight. She could collapse right here on the grass and go to sleep.

By the time she gets home, Henry is in bed. There are a few more scripts on the table. He must have picked them up from the mail. And with them, are a shooting schedule. Her eyes run over it, and she sighs. Bar one scene with Killian, all of them are with August.

* * *

 **Hey guys - thank you for reading! I'm sorry I took so long but I needed a break. But I am back in business! And I have my Captain Swan feels. I hope you liked it :)**


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

* * *

"You look lovely today, Rose," Killian says, as Emma places a vase of flowers in his chamber.

He stands beside Alexander's bed, still in his night clothes— a baggy white shirt and equally as baggy trousers. He's watching her with such a Killian-like expression, Emma almost smiles. But she doesn't. She can't break character.

"Thank you, Your Grace," she says, as she arranges the flowers. She doesn't look at him. The heat from the lights are on the back of her neck.

"Why the formalities?"

"You are my King."

"Not yet." That's true. He has yet to be crowned.

She feels him shift closer to her, but she keeps her eyes on the flowers, rearranging them, making them look beautiful. When he gets close enough that she can feel him breathe, she turns and crosses the room to his bed. She grasps the bed sheet and shakes. She hates when she has to make the bed— the sheets are so heavy.

"Your hair. It's different."

"Is it?" She can still feel his eyes on her.

"It's braided. The ladies of court wear it like that."

"It's more practical."

There's a pause, the air between them thick with tension. Emma fluffs up the pillows, still not looking at him. It's frustrating, especially because Emma longs to look at Killian. It feels… wrong to ignore him like this.

"I haven't seen you for a while."

"I've been busy."

"You've been spending a lot of time with Edmund." His voice is soft. Killian brings out Alexander's vulnerability just _perfect._

Emma sighs and looks up at him. She tilts her head. "He's just a friend."

"And what am I?"

"Cut," comes a voice that's certainly not Grumpy's. Emma looks over and sure enough, Isaac steps into the light, hands clasped in front of him, smirking just a little. She wonders if his face is a permanent smirk. Maybe he was born like it.

"What's wrong?" she asks, looking directly at Isaac.

"Yeah," Grumpy says. Emma doesn't miss the hint of irritation in his voice. "Yeah, what's wrong?"

Isaac clears his throat. "Killian seems to have… misworded his line."

"I know my line," Killian says. His own words are sparked with irritation.

"Forgive me, Killian. But then why did you get it wrong?"

"I didn't get it wrong," he snaps. Emma places a hand on his arm, trying to calm him. His next words are back to normal. "I know my lines. It was, 'And what am I?"

" _Rose_ ," Isaac says, his smirk twisting triumphantly. "And what am I, Rose."

"Oh come _on,_ " Emma says, before she can stop herself. "That's stupid."

"Is it?"

"Yes," Grumpy booms, standing up out of his director's chair. "We _never_ call cut for things like that. _Ever._ We are on a damn tight schedule and it is people like _you_ who slow us down."

There's a pause. And then, "I think we should call this a wrap."

" _No,_ Isaac. What you did there was out of line. You might be under the impression that you are the boss, and you can just come in here and change everything whenever you want, but you will _not_ cut short Alexander and Rose's scenes. You may have gotten your way with the scripts, but they are _still_ the main characters in the show, and I plan to give them the time and effort they deserve."

"Excuse—"

"And don't you _ever_ call cut again. _You_ don't get to decide when we wrap, and neither does Cruella. That power remains with the head director and the head director alone. You can see yourself out."

There is silence. Complete and utter silence as they stare at each other. Emma feels her heart flutter in her chest. She has a very, very, _very_ bad feeling…

"Very well," Isaac says, and whips out the room, Cruella right behind him.

As soon as he's gone, the tension deflates. It's Killian who starts to laugh first, beginning with slow, confused chuckles. It isn't long before he's laughing properly, and his laugh is so contagious, Emma joins in. Soon everyone is laughing, even Grumpy — _especially_ Grumpy — wiping tears from his eyes.

"He'll probably make you pay for that," Killian says, when he can speak again.

"Let him. I'll give him hell, even if it means I lose my job."

"Grumpy," Emma says, surprised by his words.

"Don't worry about it, sister. It takes a lot to get rid of me." He shrugs it off. "Anyway, back to it you slackers! Positions! We're go from your line, Killian."

Killian nods.

"Oh, and Killian?"

"Yes?"

"Make sure you drop that Rose."

He chuckles and salutes. "Aye, aye Captain."

* * *

More days pass, and more scripts come through Emma's door. The lack of scenes between her and Killian are enough to put her off reading the scripts altogether. Part of her wishes she had when she sees the last line.

' _Rose can't deny her feelings for Edmund anymore - she knows she can't be with Alexander.'_

* * *

Even though everything has been leading up to this moment, even though she knows she shouldn't be surprised, she _is._ She is shocked. Even though she overheard the conversation between Belle and Isaac, she didn't think he'd _actually_ get away with it. She thought that Alexander and Rose might fall back together. Like Killian said— they're _the_ couple. They're the favourites. She doesn't understand.

"Something got you down?" comes a familiar Irish accented voice from above her. She looks up to see Graham standing over her, two slices of chocolate cake in each hand. He holds one out to her. "Cake?"

She smiles. "Sure."

She hasn't seen him in so long, she can't keep the smile off her face. She forgot how curly his hair is, or how kind his eyes are.

He places the cake on the table and pulls the cafeteria chair out. But he must think better of it because he says, "How long's your break?"

"A few hours." She frowns. "Why?"

"I know an adorable little cafe around the corner. It's never crowded and the baristas know me. They let me keep a low profile."

She frowns, looking down at her array of purple skirts. "I'm in my costume."

"You can wear my coat."

She considers this. "Deal."

* * *

Ten minutes later, Emma is huddled in a booth in the corner of the coffee shop, Graham's coat draped around her. No-one has recognised her yet, but it's only a matter of time before someone does. Unless she's lucky, but she's probably pushing it with the costume.

The coffee shop is an adorable one. It's small and practically empty. Various artworks hang on the chocolate walls, some of children, some of women, others of flowers. All of them are beautiful and she finds herself gazing at them until Graham returns.

When he does, he's carrying a tray of two coffees and two slices of chocolate cake. They look so much more delicious than the efforts the set cafeteria sell. She takes a bite almost at once. It's moist, melting into her mouth.

"Good?" Graham laughs as he sits down.

"You know it," she says, mouth full of cake.

It's only when he's sat opposite her, smiling at her, that she realises exactly how long it's been. _Weeks._ She feels the full impact of his loss, and suddenly her heart feels heavy. Though they work on the same show, he's filming his own little subplot far away from Rose's storyline. Probably another one of Isaac's ideas. God forbid she film with anyone other than August.

"How's it going?" she asks.

"Good, y'know."

"Still with Ruby?"

"Yep!" His eyes twinkle. "She now has a drawer."

"A drawer?" Emma tilts her head.

"In my apartment. Her own drawer. And her own closet space." He pauses, and then chuckles. " _And_ her own bathroom cupboard."

"Wow, you might as well move in together."

"You know what? I'm thinking about it."

Emma has to quickly swallow her mouthful of cake. "You're _what?_ That's quick."

"When it's right, it's right. And I'm happy."

He certainly _does_ look happy. He's always had that twinkle in his eyes, but it seems much more twinkly today. His skin is clearer, and it's like he can't keep the smile off his face. It makes him look even more handsome.

"I'm happy for you, Graham," she says, with a surge of joy. "I really am."

"And I'm happy for _you._ " He picks up his coffee, bringing it to his lips. "From the way I hear it, you and Killian are going strong. I'm glad to hear that. It's strange to think I almost got in the way of that." He chuckles, shaking his head. "Though, to be honest, I'm not sure I _could_ have. You guys are pretty strong; you always were."

She doesn't know exactly what to say to that. She's glad she's sat in the dark of the booth so he can't see the blush run up her neck. She decides to change the subject to something much safer.

"I got a Twitter!"

"Oh no. You succumbed, I see?"

"Yep. And I followed you. But you haven't followed me back." She glares at him playfully, and he laughs.

"If you actually looked at my profile you would see that I haven't posted anything since 2012."

She frowns. "You haven't?" She thought _all_ the cast used their Twitters. It was the done thing.

"I only have one Tweet and it's, 'This is me. The real Graham. This is my Twitter. ' That's all."

She laughs. "Ah, I see. You're not a Twitter person, then?"

"Not really a fan of social media." He shrugs. "There's a lot of hate going around there."

 _There's also a lot of love,_ she thinks, remembering all the welcomes she got just for just joining, and the way everyone freaked out when she and Killian tweeted.

They fall into an easy chatter. Graham tells Emma that he's taking Ruby away on a mini-weekend break, which should be nice. Emma tells Graham how Henry's getting on in school.

"I've missed him," Graham says, with a fond smile.

They make a promise to watch the episodes together when they air, like old times. Emma can't keep the smile off her face— she knows Henry will _love_ that, especially if they bring Elsa. He might have to hide the Elsa poster though, and change his computer background.

Once they start talking about the episodes, Emma knows the inevitable is coming. And sure enough, they move onto talking about the scripts, and the changes in the show.

"I don't like Isaac," he says, frowning at his coffee. "I don't like the way he talks. Or the way he looks at me like he knows something I don't."

"Tell me about it," she sighs.

"And I don't like what he's doing with the scripts. He's cut my screen time. He's cut Robin's _and_ Elsa's. Not to mention, what he's doing with that Edmund character? What's he thinking? Breaking up Alexander and Rose like that, and then putting Rose with a completely new and strange character? Talk about the way to kill a show."

"I don't know." She's been wondering the same thing herself.

"Maybe he _wants_ it cancelled," he says.

"That's crazy." And it is. Why would Isaac come in and make changes to see that the show is cancelled? At the end of the day, it would be his writing career that would be ruined, and it would be _his_ name to go up in smoke, not Belle's.

"It's the only thing that makes any sense." He takes a sip of his coffee. "What does Killian think about Rose's new love interest? Has he read the scripts?"

"I don't know. We haven't even talked about it."

"Maybe you should."

"But they're characters."

She doesn't know why she's arguing with him; she knows he's right. They may be characters, but she and Killian are still going to have to work together, he's still going to have to watch her kiss someone else, and maybe vice versa. Graham says as much to her, like he can read her thoughts and she has no choice but to admit defeat.

"How do _you_ feel about it?" He asks, his eyes so open, so searching, on hers.

"I haven't thought about it." She doesn't _want_ to think about it.

"I mean, you're gonna be kissing someone else probably in _front_ of Killian. Would it make you uncomfortable?"

"I guess. I don't know." She shrugs. "I mean, August is a nice guy and we get on well so—"

"I don't like him."

She raises her eyebrows. "You don't?"

"Nope."

"Why?"

"I don't know." He frowns, eyebrows pulling together. "I just don't trust him. There's something about him that seems… off."

She gives him a look. "C'mon, when I started talking to you, Killian didn't like _you_ and look how that turned out. You're like a puppy." She laughs at herself.

But he doesn't laugh. He leans forward, lowering his voice. "Emma, Killian didn't like me for _good_ reason. He loved you, and my intentions were far from honourable. He was right not to trust me." He pauses, letting that sink in, before he sits back in his seat. "What does Killian think of August?"

"He hasn't said."

"Ask him."

"Graham…" She laughs, though it sounds off to her own ears. "Killian wouldn't tell me if he didn't like August. He wouldn't want to sound like a jealous boyfriend. Which is kinda how you sound right now."

"I'm just trying to look out for you, Emma."

"And I don't _need_ looking out for. I'm a grown woman. Besides, this is… set, not a playground. It doesn't matter who likes who. _I don't_ have a problem with August, and until you can give me a reason why, I don't see why I should." She fixes him with a serious gaze. "Can you? Can you give me a reason?"

He meets her eyes, and then sighs. "No."

"Exactly."

"Just… be careful."

"My guard is up."

Despite the turn of conversation, they leave on good terms. Graham's heart is in the right place, and Emma knows that if it were reversed, and she had a bad feeling about one of Graham's friends, she'd say the same.

But there is _one_ thing he was right about.

When she gets home, after she's had something to eat and a shower, she texts Killian.

 _Have you read the scripts?_

As always, he is quick to reply.

 _Of course._

 _We need to talk._

 _I couldn't agree more. Come on over, I'll put some coffee on._

She smiles, but shakes her head.

 _Gonna need something a bit stronger than that for this conversation._

 _Bring rum. I'm out._

* * *

It's been raining again, so the pavement sparkles in the darkness as the cab rolls up to Killian's house. She pays the driver, jumps out, and makes a beeline for the house, rum in her hand, a bottle of wine in the other. She hardly makes it up the steps before a man appears from out the shadows. She almost screams.

"Sidney Glass," the man says, extending a hand. When he sees that both her hands are full, he drops his own. " _The Mirror._ "

"Are you a _stalker?_ " The words come out of her mouth before she can stop them. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I was wondering if you could give me a quick interview."

"Nope." She begins to walk, but he blocks her path, standing in front of her.

He flashes her a smile. "It won't take long."

"I don't wanna talk." She tries to skirt around him, but he's too quick for her. He moves like lightning, even though he must be in his fifties or something.

"Just a few questions, Emma Swan. I was wondering if you and Killian Jones are dating?"

Her heart jolts. She tries to keep her voice steady as she says, "Oh, piss _off_."

"Is that why you're here? Are you sleeping with him, Emma?"

"I don't see how that's any of your business."

"So you are." His eyes gleam in the darkness. "Are you aware of his past? His string of lovers?"

"Get out of the way."

He doesn't move. "What about that baby scare? Are you pregnant, Emma?"

" _No._ " That's when she remembers what paper he said he was from. _The Mirror._ "You published that article about me," she says with quiet realisation. "The one about me being pregnant. You twisted my words around."

He gives her a smile. "I only report the truth."

"I'm sure." She searches his face, the way his eyes gleam with hunger for more information. She has the feeling that he must have deadlines to meet, and some big bad boss who makes him stalk people in the rain. She almost feels sorry for him. "Okay, I have something for you. But I'm only gonna say it once, so you're gonna have to listen very carefully, okay?"

He nods, swallowing, and leans forward.

She draws in a breath. "Get. A. Life."

It's enough to distract him and she scoots around him and up the garden path before he can register what's happening. But when he does, he _actually_ follows her up to Killian's door, stopping shy of the steps. She rings the bell, once, twice, three times. _C'mon Killian,_ she thinks.

She hears his laugh before he opens the door. "Alright, alright, I'm coming." The laughter drops from his eyes as soon as he sees her expression. "What's wrong?"

"Ah, Killian Jones. I was wondering if you could indulge me in a few questions," Sidney calls from the steps. He mustn't be brave enough to venture onto the porch.

Killian's eyes darken. "No, I bloody can't."

"Are you and Emma dating?"

"Emma and I are good friends. Thank you and goodnight."

"Is that why Emma is here at—" He checks his watch. "10 o'clock at night? To "hang out" as friends, or to stay the night?" He cocks an eyebrow. "Make no mistake, if she doesn't leave tonight, I will tell the people the truth. You can either answer my questions now, or you can read what I write tomorrow morning."

In the midst of his threat, Emma runs into the house. She can still hear him from the hallway.

"How do you feel about Emma's pregnancy?"

"Emma is _not_ pregnant, and if you're still here in— let's give you five minutes — I'll call the police. You are trespassing."

"Until next time, then."

Killian doesn't say anything else, but slams the door. When he turns to face her, he's shaking with rage. He shrugs it off, taking in a deep breath and exhaling through his mouth.

"Are you okay?" she asks softly, approaching him.

"Are _you_ okay?"

"Yeah." Though she's still trembling a little. "I'm just gonna have to get used to it." She holds the wine and rum up. "Anyway, let's crack these open. I need a drink, and I'm sure you do too."

"Moreso after that."

She disappears into the living room, and he into the kitchen. He returns with two glasses, and sets them on the coffee table, before joining her on the sofa. She's in the middle of pouring her wine when Killian gently takes the bottle from her hands.

"Hey!"

"I should be doing this. You are a guest in my home." He kisses her nose.

"Yeah, but I practically live here now."

"You do." He stops pouring just short of the rim. "Have you eaten?"

"Yep. Have you?"

"I have. Not too long ago. I was going to make you something if you hadn't," he says by way of explanation. She grabs her wine and swallows half of it in one go. "It's a good thing you _have_ eaten. Something on your mind?"

"Like I said, we need to talk."

"And you need to be drunk to talk to me?"

"About this? Just mildly tipsy." She swallows even more of her wine before she turns her head to him. She should be standing for this. It'll keep her on her toes, and her head clear, but sitting down keeps her steady. "You've read the scripts?"

He raises his eyebrows. "I said I had."

"And you've seen what's… in them."

"If you're referring to the break up of Rose and Alexander, then yes."

She takes in a breath. Her heart is in her throat. She places her glass on the side of the table. Killian doesn't even touch his rum.

"And… and _Edmund._ "

"Aye."

He's patient, she'll give him that.

"Look," she begins. She looks down at her hands as she speaks. "I know that it's not been _said_ yet, but obviously it's been implied. It's gonna happen. Rose and Edmund are going to end up together, which I guess isn't so bad. And I guess we don't know yet, but we'll probably have to… have to _kiss_ and—"

"You haven't read the scripts?"

Her eyes fly to his. He's frowning. "I have."

"Another one came through the mail today. Have you read that one?"

She frowns. "No." She didn't notice a script when she got in, but then again, she didn't notice much. She was too preoccupied with Killian and texting him.

"There's a kiss. Between Edmund and Rose, I mean."

Her stomach drops. "O-oh."

He takes her hand. His palm is warm around her ice fingers. To her surprise, he chuckles. "You look like a startled cat. Why are you so worried?"

She frowns at him. "Because I'm going to have to kiss someone else?"

"And _?_ "

She searches for some sign of annoyance in his face, but there's nothing. Nothing to show he's uncomfortable. "And that… that doesn't _bother you_?"

He laughs. "Oh Emma, of _course_ it bothers me. The thought of any man kissing you, let alone _August_ , fills me with jealousy and makes me imagine all kinds of awful things. Like ripping off his head for instance." He chuckles again.

She doesn't understand. "But…"

" _But,"_ He squeezes her hand. "It's not real. It's acting. I knew what would happen when I signed up for this job, and so did you. Kissing will always be a requirement. I've kissed many people in this job, and I'll continue to kiss many more, and so will _you._ "

She reflects on his words, nodding.

"I'm not so insecure that some amateurish kissing is going to bother me. Not in this job."

"Even if you'll have to watch?"

A small smile crosses his face. A smile of reassurance. "Even if I have to watch."

She thinks about how she'd feel if she had to watch Killian kiss someone else. She imagines it; she imagines him running his hands through their hair, his lips on theirs, and her blood boils. She almost can't string a sentence together, the jealousy is so strong. She's going to have to get over that and quickly.

"So you're… you're really okay with it?"

"What would you say if I wasn't?" He laughs again. "But I am."

"Huh."

"The way I see it, August may kiss you on set, in front of millions of people watching your every move, but _I_ kiss you in private." He moves closer to her and if to prove a point, he presses a quick kiss to her lips. "I get to hold your hand, and take you on dates, and hold you, and make love to you." Her heart flutters for an entirely different reason. His eyes sparkle. "I'd be a little worried if you took up those activities with August."

She scoffs. "As if."

"Exactly."

She looks up at him through her eyelashes. She feels better after that conversation, lighter. She watches as he finally picks up his rum, watching the way his shoulders move with every movement, and the way he brings it up to his lips. She starts to wonder why they were even wasting their time on such trivial matters when they could have been doing other things.

He catches her staring. "What?"

"Talking about making love…"

"Ah, you're mistaken. We weren't speaking about it; I merely mentioned it in passing. God knows what conversation _you_ were having."

"Hey!" She goes to whack him on the arm, but he catches her hand.

"You're a feisty lass, do you know that?"

"You love it."

"Oh, I do."

He leans forward to kiss her. She lets him for a few seconds, but when his hands move to find her hair, she shuffles out of his arms. He throws a wounded expression, but she jumps up out of the sofa.

She flips her hair over her shoulder. "I've changed my mind."

"... What?"

"You heard me. I'm probably just gonna head to bed."

She makes a point of yawning and stretching her arms high above her head, reaching up on her tiptoes. Then she feels strong arms around her waist and the floor disappears underneath her feet. Before she knows what's happening, she's pinned to the sofa, her arms above her head and he's looking down at her, one eyebrow raised.

"Are you sure?" he asks.

She laughs. "Nope."

He sits up and she follows him. They stare at each other for a moment, with soft smiles, listening to each other's breathing.

"It's going to be alright," Killian says. "I can feel it."

"So can I."

She leans forward and kisses him, hands moving to his neck. He kisses her back with those long slow kisses he knows she likes. She's so distracted she hardly notices when he pulls her shirt up and over her head, throwing it halfway across the room. But she _does_ notice when he runs his fingertips down her sides and cold metal makes her yelp.

"Take your damn rings off for God's sake," she growls.

"If the lady insists."

Then it's his shirt to come off and he's trembling as she trails her fingertips down his stomach, hardly touching his skin. And then all of his clothes come off, and it makes him chuckle.

"Someone's impatient."

"Shut up and kiss me."

Then they're kissing again, and Killian is trailing his lips down her neck and she can't even _breathe_ , let alone think. A moment of quiet, whispered pleading in his ear and then he's touching her. Another moment of soft words, words that would make her flush with embarrassment any other time, and then they're moving together and everything is as it should be.

And Emma knows Killian is right, and everything will be okay.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading! I'm super ahead with my writing on this one so I might post another chapter tomorrow, if you're up for it! Let me know what you think ;)**


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

* * *

"Okay, we need to go," Emma says.

They have been on the sofa for the past few hours. Emma is due in costume in ten minutes. It's going to be a long night tonight, as it always is when they're on location. Although Killian isn't filming and actually has the night off, he insisted on staying until it was time for her to film the scene. Then he'd go home.

He presses another kiss to her jaw, just below her ear. The sensation makes her shiver. She giggles, pushing him away from her.

"Killian…" she warns.

He holds her tighter. "Mm?"

"I have to _go."_

"Yes, I agree," he murmurs, from somewhere near her collarbone.

She gently pushes his chest and this time, he moves almost at once, though he gives her those sad, puppy eyes she's earned on more than one occasion. But as always, she's unfazed by his attempts to make her feel guilty, and rolls her eyes.

"I have to get to costume." She stands, tugging on the hem of her shirt as she does so, combing her hair into place with her fingers. "We both know how Ariel gets when we're late."

"When _you're_ late. I'm never late."

She looks over at him. He's lounged out on the sofa now, his legs outstretched, watching her through hooded eyes. The hair on the back of his head sticks up in all directions. His shirt is ruffled.

"Stop that," she said.

"Stop what?"

"Giving me the bedroom eyes."

His tongue darts out to smooth over his lower lip. "I have _no_ idea what you're talking about."

She resists the urge to roll her eyes again. He could be infuriating sometimes, but she wouldn't have it any other way.

She holds her hand out for him. His eyes dart down to it. "Come on," she says. "You can keep me company while I'm getting my hair done."

He stands, taking her hand in his, giving her a soft smile. Together, they make their way to the door. Emma intends to open it, but she looks up to see Killian frowning. It's hardly there for a second — as soon as he notices her looking, his face relaxes — and she turns towards him.

"Killian, are you okay?"

"I'm fine." He smiles a smile at her, but she can tell his thoughts aren't with her, which she finds strange, considering what they were doing on the sofa only a few moments ago. But she knows exactly what ails him.

"You're not thinking about my… scene, are you?"

Or rather, her kiss with August. Although they've both accepted it, that doesn't stop the way Emma's heart picks up, or the way her stomach does a nervous plummet when she thinks about kissing him. She doesn't _want_ to kiss him— not one bit. They're friends and the friendship they have is _good._ She doesn't want to make it awkward with a kiss.

"I'm thinking about all the lines I have to learn."

He doesn't look at her as he says the words. Although he was very open about his feelings on the kiss, she doesn't fully believe him. It's bound to affect him, even if he won't tell her. She knows, without a doubt, that it would affect her.

"Hey," she says.

He looks at her. His hair is still ruffled from where she dragged her fingers through it, his lips still pink from kissing.

"This is gonna be the worst scene I've ever had to do, okay?" she says. That makes him smile. "And I'm gonna think about you through every second of it."

He laughs. "I'm not entirely sure how I feel about that."

"I just feel sorry for August."

He laughs again, this time more enthusiastically. The laugh makes her giggle, it's so contagious. Before she can stop herself, she's on her tiptoes, pressing a kiss to his lips. When he returns the kiss, she drags him down to her and soon she's pushed up against the door, and his mouth is trailing down her skin again.

That's when she feels his hands on her legs and suddenly he's lifting her up, and turning them around. Then he's walking her to the sofa.

"I _really_ have to go," she complains, but she wraps her legs around his waist so there isn't any chance of falling, curling her arms around his neck.

"Do you?" She doesn't know how he manages to kiss her and carry her at the same time.

"Yes but okay, five more minutes. Only five more minutes. Are you listening, Killian?" She falls back onto the sofa. "Five more—" But any sentence she was about to finish is cut off when he silences her with a kiss.

* * *

She's ten minutes late for costume, which makes her ten minutes late for filming. She runs onto set, lifting her dress as she swerves through crew and cast, hair flying behind her. Everyone is already waiting for her, including Isaac and Cruella. She should be used to seeing them by now, but she still hopes she won't find them sulking around set, ready to make changes on demand. But there is one good thing; ever since Grumpy called Isaac out for calling cut, he's been practically non existent.

"Emma," Grumpy says, as he makes his way over to her, arms folded.

"I'm sorry I'm late. I was—"

"With Killian?" he asks. When she opens her mouth, he shakes his head. "Just be honest with me. Were you with Killian?"

She folds her own arms. "Yes."

"Okay. Well." He casts a glance back at Isaac, who is watching them, before he turns back to her. "Isaac was asking if you were with Killian."

She frowns. "Why?"

"Look. He's looking for any excuse to sanction Killian at the moment. Don't ask me why; I don't know." After another hasty look directed in Isaac's direction, he turns back to her, lowering his voice. "I found something— I can't tell you what it is. Don't ask me that either. All you need to know is you've got to… be careful with him. He's not what he seems."

"Okay?" That only confirms what she already knew. She had a bad feeling about him since he walked on set.

"Listen to me. He asked me _directly_ if you were with Killian. Don't you think that's a bit private? Don't say anything, just nod and look sad. He thinks we're talking about the scene."

Emma frowns.

"Better than that, Emma. C'mon. You're supposed to be an actress." His eyes meet hers, worried and alert. It gives her a bad feeling. "I told him that I was with you, and we were discussing how to do your kiss with August. _That's_ what made you late for costume. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. Okay?"

"I understand." But she's not sure she does.

"Good."

She catches movement out of the corner of her eye and looks up to see Isaac begin to make his way over to them. He seems to shuffle rather than walk; another creepy thing about the guy. Everything about him makes her skin crawl. Her eyes flicker back to Grumpy.

"I understand," she repeats, louder, enough for Isaac to hear. "So gentle, right?"

He gets the hint almost immediately. "Yes, gentle! Alexander and Rose have passion, whereas Edmund is a bit—"

"A bit what, Leroy?" Isaac asks, coming to a stop next to him.

"Well, y'know. You wrote him." He turns back to Emma. "So we're rolling in-" He checks his watch. "About five. Maybe seven- I want a bottle of water. So you better go ahead and get in positions. No slacking." And then he's gone, leaving Emma completely alone with Isaac.

She wonders whether he's going to shout at her like he did to Killian, but he isn't even looking at her. His eyes scour the room and they seem to pass over everyone, even the crew members. Finally, they come to rest on hers and she's staring into his beetle-black watery eyes, wishing she was far, far away.

"I'm very excited about this scene, Emma," he says, with a twitch of his lips.

 _That makes one of us,_ she longs to say. But she keeps her answer polite and modest. It would be safer to avoid speaking her mind with Isaac.

"I hope I can do it justice."

"Oh, I'm sure you will." Then his eyes ghost over to August, where he stands, chatting to Elsa. She throws her head back and laughs, her long blonde wig shimmering in the light. "Anyway, you heard Leroy. Time is short and we are slaves to it. Best get a move on."

Feeling very much like a child in school, Emma does as she's bid. Not that she should complain. The further away from Isaac she is, the happier she is, especially if it means trading his company for that of Elsa and August. Elsa laughs again, just as Emma approaches.

"Hey guys," Emma says.

They both look at her, smiles on their faces. "Hey," they chorus.

"August is so funny, Emma. How come you didn't tell me August is funny?" Elsa says, still smiling. Her cheeks are tinged with pink. If Emma didn't know any better, she'd say her friend had a crush.

"Is he? I hadn't noticed," she teases, meeting August's eyes.

"It's not my fault you're a tough crowd," he replies, and Elsa laughs again. Yep, definitely a crush. And Emma has to say, she's glad. She has her own stubble wrapped in a enigma, so it's high time Elsa found someone too.

"Yeah, Emma doesn't laugh at anything," Elsa says. Then, her eyes sparkle mischievously. "Apart from Killian. Killian makes her laugh _all_ the time. He's not even that funny; he just thinks he is."

"I guess?" Emma says.

"Seriously, you're probably the best _and_ worst thing that's ever happened to him. He has enough people stroking his ego, but you do it the most."

Emma folds her arms. "I give credit where credit's due."

"I'm sure." She smiles, eyes running around the room, widening when they see Grumpy re-enter the set, holding a water bottle. "Shoot, he said positions. I'll see you later, guys."

She gives them a small wave and scurries off to find her position halfway up the hill. Elsa's character, Elizabeth, is supposed to catch them kissing. Emma knows why Isaac's done it, and she's sure it's not from a conflict point-of-view. He plans to make Elizabeth run off after witnessing their kiss to find Alexander, and confess all that she saw. He'll then confront Rose, ending their on-screen romance effective immediately. It's sneaky, it's clever and she does not like it one bit. She was hoping she'd get to share more screen time with Killian, but it looks like that's not going to be the case.

"Places!" Grumpy yells from his chair.

Emma looks over to see him scribbling on a notebook, Mulan twittering away at his ear, holding a clipboard and a headset. She spots Cruella sit down in the chair next to Isaac, and they whisper to each other. What they're whispering about, Emma doesn't know. But when Cruella has finished her nattering, her gleaming eyes fall directly on Emma.

"D'you think Elsa would want to go for drinks sometime?" August asks, to Emma's complete surprise.

Her head snaps round to him. He looks almost sheepish, scratching behind his neck. His smile is soft.

She raises an eyebrow. "That's very forward of you."

"What can I say? She laughed at my jokes. Like your boyfriend, I happen to like the occasional ego-stroke." He leans forward, near her ear, so Elsa won't hear. "And she's very funny herself."

"There's only one way to find out. Ask her."

"Do you think she'd say yes?"

"Sure. I mean, I don't see why not." In fact, she is almost 100% sure that that is most certainly the answer Elsa will give. "Go for it. What have you got to lose?"

"Surely not my dignity."

She laughs. "Don't be scared."

"Do you wanna know another secret?"

She raises her eyebrows. "Go on."

"I'm scared… About today."

"Today?"

"Our kiss."

 _Oh._ "Oh… right." And just like that, her stomach begins the uncomfortable churning.

"Not about the kissing part. I've kissed women before." He pauses to throw her a smirk, which receives an eye roll in return. "But I'm scared of what your boyfriend might… do to me."

She frowns. "Okay?"

"And to my fragile face."

"Killian's a professional. He always has been." She offers him a smile. "We talked it through."

"You talked it through? I bet that was awkward."

"Not really. No." She remembers how open and honest he'd been about his feelings and how he'd made love to her afterwards. "Not at all." She smiles to remember, a secret smile, that she hopes doesn't have her blushing.

"Huh."

She looks up at him. He's frowning, rubbing his chin in thought, eyebrows pulled together.

"What?" she asks. "What is it?"

"I just didn't expect that. That's all."

"What did you expect?"

"Nothing. It doesn't matter."

She's about to push it, to ask him what he meant again, but then Grumpy is barking at people and she's forced to get into position, as is August. She's not _too_ worried about the kiss, not like she was with Killian. She knows she shouldn't compare these kisses with August to Killian, but she can't help it. They're just so different. And knowing what she knows now, she understands _why_ she was so nervous to kiss Killian, even in a professional role such as this.

She was already falling for him.

Of course she was terrified, and _of course_ she would have never admitted that to herself, let alone him, in a million years, but that was the truth. Killian had wormed his way into her heart when no-one else had been able to.

That's how she knew the kiss with August was going to be a breeze. She had nothing to worry about.

They'd already rehearsed the scene earlier on in the day, barring the actual kiss. It flowed well and their chemistry was good, so Emma wasn't worried about the acting part either.

Now she stands in the middle of the field, the very same one where Edmund had offered Rose the flower, ready to walk side-by-side. Lights beam down on them, trying to make it look like moonlight, silver sparkling off the blades of grass.

" _Action,_ " Grumpy yells.

They begin to walk. Emma keeps her eyes on the ground, picking up her dress as she walks. She can feel August beside her, brushing his arm with hers, and his fingertips against hers. She can feel a million eyes on her, but she tries to keep her head in the moment.

"Are you cold, Rose?" August asks and she shakes her head. "Not even a little? You could borrow my cloak, if you would like?"

"I'm fine, my lord, thank you."

"How many times have I told you not to call me 'my lord?" If Emma is not mistaken, Alexander said the very same line to Rose. She almost laughs at Isaac, at his pathetic attempts to be authentic.

"Too many times… my lord."

They both laugh softly.

"You know, I will be gone in a few days," August says.

Emma still keeps her eyes on the grass as they walk. She kneels down to pick a flower and returns to her feet in a matter of seconds. "I am aware."

"I'll miss you."

She sighs softly. "Edmund…"

He stops, abruptly, and turns to her. Emma finally looks up into his face. Into his eyes, which seem to gleam in the moonlight. August's eyes always have a habit of gleaming, whether that be in amusement or happiness. There was just… something about him. Something easy, something happy. Now they gleam with determination.

"No, don't say I shouldn't. I will." Emma opens her mouth to speak, to argue, but he places a hand on her arm. "And don't tell me that you feel guilty, that you have… feelings for another." He lowers his voice to a murmur, which will hardly carry above the breeze. "I think we both know that's not true."

"Edmund," she says again, this time with warning. She gives him a look, a very Emma-like look she'd shoot his way if he were out of line.

He moves his hand to stroke her face. His touch is gentle, but not as gentle as Killian's. His fingertips, calloused. She wonders if that's from the years he claimed to have spent writing.

"I just need to do one thing before I leave." He leans in closer, his lips inches away from hers. It makes the hairs on her arm stand on end— and not in the good way.

"You know we can't..." She breathes. "If he sees…"

"Then stop me."

He presses his lips to hers. The kiss is soft, sweet, barely more than a brush of lips, but it's enough for the both of them. She doesn't move her hands to touch August's neck, to curl around his hair; that is something Rose would do with Alexander, and she's not entirely sure she wants to let that go yet. Even though Isaac may write her to forget about Alexander, Emma knows her character. She knows what they had was real even if — for some reason — they don't feel it anymore.

They kiss for a few more seconds, lips whispering against each other before August pulls away.

"Meet me," he says, voice breathless. He grasps her arms. She is unable to look away. "Meet me tomorrow in my chamber if you feel as I do. Meet me, and I shall not leave." And then he releases her and makes his way off set.

Grumpy calls cut.

Cruella is immediately on her feet, clapping. "Marvelous. Marvelous, darlings. Absolutely beautiful. I may just swoon."

"Yes, yes," Grumpy snaps, waving his hand vaguely in her direction. "It was fine. Anyway, time for take two."

"Oh, I'm not sure we need a take two," Isaac says, smiling. "That was _perfect._ " He looks directly at Emma and gives her the first genuine smile she's seen… ever. Despite her reservations towards him, a thrill of pride runs through her. It leaves as quickly as it comes. When Grumpy looks like he's about to argue, Isaac says, "You said it yourself Leroy, we're running behind. It would be good to move on."

Grumpy checks his watch. "Actually, yeah. I think we better call it a night. Great job guys."

For the second time, Emma feels a flicker of pride.

* * *

 **Killian**

* * *

Killian has done his best to avoid Emma and August's scenes as much as possible. He meant what he said to Emma; it's a job, it's only a job, and if he thought she was kissing August and _enjoying_ it, he would have to be stupid. He knows he's a good kisser. And he knows, even though she has yet to admit it, that she loves him.

And it's not like their relationship has suffered. In fact, Isaac's little affair has done quite the opposite. Emma is forever calling him, forever asking to see him. Killian has spent countless nights over, having dinner and watching movies with Emma and her boy. And when Henry isn't there… Well, he can honestly say that nothing in _that_ department has suffered.

But, that doesn't mean he wants to see his Emma in the arms of another man. Oh, no. Especially a stubble-wrapped, leather-wearing man. It's too close to home for him, especially now he knows that stubble and leather are Emma's type.

Yes, he had done his best to avoid it altogether. It was the most sensible thing to do. Then he didn't have to imagine painful ways for August to die.

A joke. Of course.

But he should have known he couldn't have avoided it forever. Just the other week he had received a script that meant there was no way he was getting out of watching Emma and August's… intimacies. No. Killian would have to watch.

He would walk in on them kissing. Killian didn't mind _too_ much about this development. The Rose-Alexander-Edmund love triangle was getting a bit out of hand. And he had never seen Rose as the type of character to betray someone she loved, even if she didn't love him in the same way as before. It just seems entirely out of character. Finally, Alexander would find out and that mess would come to an end.

A week after Emma's kiss with August he finds himself in the middle of Edmund's chamber, sat on a chair in the corner of the room. A script is draped over his lap as he goes over his lines. He's sure he won't forget them, but it gives him something to do other than glare at August from across the room.

He smirks. But his smirk swiftly turns into a frown when August begins to make his way over to him. His costume is _very_ much like Killian's; all leather and strings. It's almost like they're making Edmund the new Alexander. _But that would be crazy,_ he thinks, grimly.

"Hey, Killian," August says, smiling.

Killian quickly replaces his frown into a grin. "Evening, August."

"Mind if I sit here?" He gestures to the seat next to Killian.

"Not at all, mate. Take a seat."

He does so, to Killian's immediate displeasure. He's so close that Killian can smell his cologne. Funny. He didn't think that August wore cologne before. Maybe he only puts it on when he's kissing Killian's girlfriend…

 _Stop it._

"What have you got there?" August asks, nodding to the papers in his hands.

 _The script, you bloody git._

"Just the script, mate." He holds it up. "Just going over my lines."

"Weak memory?"

He's not sure why that makes him bristle. "No, actually. I have a very good memory."

"I bet it's not as good as Emma's." He smiles at his own mention of Emma's name, shaking his head, as if reliving a fond memory. "She's brilliant, your girlfriend."

"I am aware."

"No, seriously. She's really something. You're a lucky man."

He grits his teeth. "I know."

 _Of course_ he knows. He doesn't need some leather-wearing twat to tell him so.

"Don't ever let her go, Killian. If I had her, I never would."

 _What the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?_ But before he can ask him, a hollow vibrating comes from the direction of August's pocket. August lets it ring for a few moments, drumming his fingers on his knee, not making a move.

"Are you going to get that?" Killian asks.

As if he's just realised, August says. "Oh yeah. Sure," and pulls the phone from his pocket, holding it up to the light.

Killian's eyes immediately go to the screen and he can see _The Boss_ flashing up in bold letters. August declines the call and shoves it back into his pocket, leaning back in his chair. He looks out onto the set, making no comment.

"Who's the boss?" Killian asks. "Funny name for a caller ID. Unless you happen to have Bruce Springsteen on speed dial?"

"Oh, _him."_ August chuckles. "Just my agent. He has a bit of an ego problem. He likes to call himself the boss."

"Probably not best to decline his calls."

"Probably not," August agrees. But then he shakes his head. "But he'll call back later. He probably has other things to do; other deals to make. Movie deals, I mean." His eyes light up. "There's Emma! See you, Killian."

And then the damn fool gets up and walks off right over to where _his_ girlfriend awaits. Puffing out his chest, Killian jumps up from his own seat and follows August, leaving his script abandoned on the table. He arrives just in time to see August pull Emma into a hug. He doesn't know why it angers him to see the man's arms wrapped around her like that, but it does. She releases him, laughing.

"What was that for?"

"I was told you weren't much of a hug person. I wanted to test that theory."

"You and your theories!" she laughs.

She looks breathtakingly beautiful as ever. The make-up department have done her hair differently today. It's curlier than usual, and every strand seems to catch the light, gleaming seamlessly under it. He wants nothing more than to wrap _his_ arms around her, but he restrains herself, not wanting to seem petty.

"Killian, hey," she says, with a smile. Killian takes satisfaction in the way her face lights up when she lays eyes on him.

Well of course it does, he wants to scream at himself. She loves him. She _loves_ him. No, she hasn't told him yet but he can feel it. He needn't be so… jealous. And jealous is the only word for it. He needs to pull his act together, especially because he's already seething and they haven't even started kissing yet. He doesn't know how he's supposed to get through it.

 _It's just a job, it's just a job…_

But August is a very real man. And there's something that Killian doesn't like about him. But it will do no good to dwell on these things right now when he needs a clear head. He pushes them to the back on his mind and focuses on Emma, his love, smiling up at him.

"I meant to ask you," she says. "Are you coming over tonight? Henry's at Regina's again, so I could use the company."

"I would be happy to oblige."

"Great."

They share a look— a special secret look — and some of Killian's worries melt away. Yes, in a moment she may be in the arms of a leather-clad look-a-like but tonight, when it counts, she will be in _his_ arms.

"Let's get this show on the road," comes Grumpy's voice. He makes his way over to them, rubbing his hands together. Killian is displeased to see Isaac and that slightly frightening Cruella woman on his heels. "You guys know what you're doing."

"Don't worry," August says. "We have rehearsed it _thoroughly_."

Killian frowns. "Have we?"

"Emma and I, I mean. We spent almost the whole of yesterday rehearsing so I think we're good."

"I'm sure you are, buddy." Grumpy says, as he turns to Killian. "You know what you're doing, brother?"

"Aye, I do." They had gone over ways to play Alexander only this morning.

"Great. Remember- I wanna see true heartbreak. Okay, Killian?"

"Of course."

"Get in your places."

Killian gives Emma a quick peck on the cheek before he moves to stand on the sidelines. They're going to be filming the scene in two parts; August and Emma's kissing, and then Killian's entrance. For the first part of the evening, he is just going to have to watch. The idea makes his stomach clench.

 _It's not real. It's not real._

Emma and August get into positions. From his place on the sidelines he can see them laughing together. August must have said something amusing, the smug git. He frowns, wondering how the man is so funny. Killian himself didn't think August had two brain cells to rub together.

Emma sits on the end of the bed and August stands above, hands on his hips, looking around. They talk non-stop. Occasionally Emma throws a look Killian's way and gives him a small wave or a smile. He can tell she's nervous. It's probably because he's here, watching them. He would feel the same.

It takes forever for Grumpy to call action but when he does, Killian's stomach plummets.

August's mouth is straight on Emma's and they're kissing. It's not _too_ bad. It's not _too_ passionate. He remembers the directions from the script— something about kissing a little and then Alexander walks in.

There isn't any moaning or any groping, which he's happy about. It's not passionate. It's just kissing. August's hand comes to cup Emma's cheek, but his movements are rough and far less gentle than Killian's. Doesn't the man know that Emma deserves the softest of touches?

No, not Emma. _Rose._

 _Dammit._

" _Cut,_ " Grumpy calls. "That was a great take guys. Simple, I like it. We'll just shoot Killian's scene and see how it plays…"

Grumpy continues talking, but Killian zones out. His eyes are on Emma. As if she can tell he's watching, she looks up at him, and gives him a small, apologetic smile. He blows a kiss in return to show that she has nothing to worry about.

Killian zones back in when Cruella starts speaking.

"Actually, I think we should do another few takes," Cruella says. "It wasn't very… passionate. I want to see more passion."

"Er…" Grumpy begins. "That's sorta… not what I was going for."

"Well, I don't intend to be mean darling, but what you were going for is boring. It's bland and I don't like it. Let me have a hand at directing. I worked on a little English film the other week and I actually won an award for my direction. The film was mostly comprised of love scenes and gin."

"Er…"

"Just give me a chance. You know I'll be fabulous. Unless of course…" She raises her huge black eyebrows. "You're afraid I'll put you to shame."

" _Hey-"_

"I have to agree with Cruella," Isaac says.

Grumpy sighs. "Fine. Do what you want."

"Oh, goody!" She claps her hands together and marches towards Emma and August. "Okay, darlings. I want passion. Pure, unadulterated passion. Shall we practise? I think we should practise. Let's make this _steamy._ "

Steamy? Killian isn't so sure he can handle steamy. Emma leans around Cruella to meet his eye but Cruella pulls her back.

"No, darling. Ignore your boyfriend, as delicious as he is. Focus on the scene. _Steamy."_

"And how do you propose we do that?" asks August.

"Oh, you know. Unless you've never been with a woman, I'm sure it shouldn't be so difficult. I want to see a lot of heavy petting, neck kissing, and you know what? Let's be creative. Let's throw in a few moans here and there. You're not kissing statues, darlings." She nods. "You know what? Get on the bed."

"What?" Emma says. "That's not in the script."

"Yeah," August says. "And we're not your performing monkeys."

"I'm the assistant director and in acting there's this little thing called _improvising._ If you're not sure, we could ask the writer. He is over there. _Oh Isaac, darling,_ " she calls. "Can mummy improvise a little bit?"

 _Mummy?_ Killian tries not to gag.

"Of course," Isaac says.

She turns back to Emma and August. "Excellent. Get on the bed, monkeys."

They do as they're told and shuffle onto the bed, awkwardly, looking around, not really sure what to do with themselves. Emma looks particularly uncomfortable. She keeps throwing Killian looks and he keeps smiling at her, telling her it's okay.

"Now August, climb on top of Emma, there we go. Don't look so annoyed, Emma. If I had that stubble dream on me, I'd be in heaven. That's it. There we go."

She steps out of the way so Killian has full view of the scene. Whether it's intentional or not, he doesn't know. He's not sure Cruella could have planned for the way his stomach tightens at the sight of August hovering above Emma, her hair splayed out behind her, gazing up into his eyes.

 _It's just a job._

Cruella claps her hands together. "Don't be afraid to spread out on that… that _lovely_ fur throw. Now isn't that just a _darling_ throw." She shakes her head. "Anyway, I want kissing. And lots of it! Slow, sexy, delicious kissing. With tongue."

August groans. " _No-one_ would know."

" _I_ would know." She claps her hands together again, loud and clear. Killian winces. "So kissing, like I've just said, and then neck kissing. Okay, my dears? And that's what Killian- I mean Antonio-"

"Alexander," Grumpy corrects.

"Whatever his name is. That's what he should see." She starts to walk away, pulling her fur coat around her, heels clicking against the floor. Then she turns back to them, pointing. "Remember, _steamy…_ "

"Er— right," Grumpy says. "You heard the woman. Er… action!"

Killian tries to prepare himself for the sight, he really does, but it doesn't work. He watches as August kisses Emma slow and long like Cruella described. His hand moves up to curl in her hair, and he uses his other arm to brace himself, a move Killian has used many times before. It goes on for a few moments, where Killian is unable to do anything but watch and stare and wish he wasn't seeing the scene in front of him, before a snort comes from the bed. It takes Killian a moment to realise the sound has come from August — and he's laughing.

"Cut," Grumpy says.

"Sorry," August says, laughing again. "I hope that didn't ruin your take. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Grumpy says. "We can try again. Action!"

But August hardly brushes Emma's lips when he laughs again, unable to contain himself. _What a professional_ , Killian thinks, surprised by his own venom. It takes them another three times before August can get a handle on his laughing. Then they try again.

August kisses down her neck, exactly where Killian had kissed the night before, slowly, softly, taking his time.

 _Don't think about it._

He might have been able to handle that if it wasn't for the way Emma arches her neck up to meet his kisses, her fingers curling in his hair.

" _Cut,_ " Cruella calls. "Darlings, where is the passion? August, I adore you — you _know_ I adore you — but it's like you're kissing a fish. Emma, be more responsive. This is your _man_ , Emma. Let him love you!"

"Er…" Emma says.

"A moan, darling. I want a moan. Do I have to say it out loud? _Moan_ , darling."

"Are you sur-"

" _Yes!_ God. Please give me something to make me lie awake at night. Action!"

And then August is back to kissing her neck, softly, intimately, and Killian feels a little sick. In fact he's thinking now would be a perfect time to leave right before—

But he's too late and Emma's noise comes before he can even think of an excuse to leave. And… it's not so bad. It's not _real._ He knows how to draw out a variety of noises from Emma in a variety of different ways and none sound like _this_. They sound much more real. And now that he thinks about it, she is so _different._ Her hands may curl in August's hair, but they _drag_ through Killian's. She hardly moves at all here, but when she's with Killian, the lightest of touches has her trembling.

That's when he realises something he's been trying to tell himself all along. _It's not real._

And when they're done and Killian is just about to film his part of the scene, it's Emma who really hammers that in. She runs over to him and without missing a beat, grabs him by the lapels of his costume and kisses him. In front of everyone.

No, it's not real.

* * *

 **A day later than I said it would be but my beta was unavailable. *Sigh*! Anyway, I hope you liked it! Srsly expect a lot of a chapters coming up because I've written up to Chapter 17 so far! Whoo! Let me know what you think- As always, I love it.**


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

* * *

Killian makes his way over to the mailbox, his dressing gown slung over his shoulders, coffee in one hand. The grass is wet beneath his feet. He can feel it soaking through his slippers, creating an uncomfortable feeling of dampness. He tries to ignore it as he opens the mailbox with a rusty squeak and retrieves his mail. He should be used to having a mailbox out in the open by now, having lived in America for almost half his life, but it is still his bane of his existence.

He already knows what one letter is. With a jolt to the heart, he recognises the cursive swirly letters that make up his brother's handwriting. He's already ripping it open before he's even made his way back into his house. A rectangular piece of card falls into his palm, as well as another, smaller envelope entitled _Killian_. He turns his attention to the invitation. Written in cursive on pastel blue paper is:

 _You are invited to_

 _The Wedding of_

 _LIAM JONES AND TINK HUDSON._

Killian's heart squeezes. He has only heard from his brother a few times since that call, and their conversations were usually too quick for his liking. They were both busy; Killian, with filming commitments, and Liam with the biggest commitment of his life.

 _Marriage_.

 _Jesus, Joseph and Mary._

He reads the rest of the invitation inside, safe from prying eyes. There's always a possibility that someone is watching him. He can't even collect his post without someone taking a picture of him. He can only imagine the front page news if he teared up on the porch: _Kings and Queens star has a breakdown._

And he _does_ feel like crying. His brother. A married man. He's not sure he'll ever get used to hearing that, or saying it to himself.

The rest of the letter tells him dates and times. They're to be married in the Spring. March. Killian suppresses a smile. He thought Liam had said Tink wanted a winter wedding? Maybe she had come to her senses. There was more of a chance of pigs flying than a beautiful white winter. Unless… they were to get married _here._

He turns his attention to the other envelope, barely taking his eyes off it as he lowers himself down at the kitchen table and sips his coffee. There's something else in there. He uses his thumb to brush under the flap, turning the envelope upside down, shaking it. it until a small, folded piece of paper falls out. His eyes ghost over the paper.

 _Dear Killian,_

 _I know we haven't had a proper time to talk on the phone. Not for long, that is, with our busy schedules and God awful phone connection. There are things I've been wanting to say and things I'm not sure_ _how_ _to say, so I thought it would be best to write it down._

 _Here's the thing. My feelings about Emma aren't any secret. I have told you how I feel about her and I've also told her what I think of her. I'm sure she has told you what I said, and I'm sure you believe that I had no right. For this, we disagree. There's something about her I don't trust. I'm sorry brother, but that's the way it is. I won't mince my words with you; you deserve better than than. She abandoned her_ _child_ for goodness sake. _Surely that should give you indication of her character? Not to mention the time she spent in prison, and the various other black marks against her._

 _I don't say this to make you change your mind. You have always been stubborn—_

"So have you, mate," Killian murmurs, fingertips ghosting over the words.

— _so I say this to make you understand. Surely, if you were in my position, knowing what I know, you would feel the same? I have always protected you and I always will protect you._

 _But I get it. Truly, I do. You love her. For the longest time, I didn't know what love meant. Then I found Tink, and honestly, I don't know what I'd do if you didn't like her. Or at least, didn't_ _try_ _to like her._

 _So here it is. My promise to you, brother. Bring Emma to the wedding. I promise I will not be hard on her. I will not throw quipping remarks her way, or make her feel like she isn't wanted. I will be on my best behaviour and I will use this chance to get to know her. We may have gotten off on the wrong foot, but it's nothing that can't be fixed. Please, bring her Killian. Nothing will make me happier than to see you happy._

 _I can't wait to see you again, brother._

 _All my love,_

 _Liam_

Killian reads and re-reads his his brother's letter, unable to believe it. Where has this come from? Perhaps Liam isn't the stubborn one after all.

Whether that is true or not, Killian doesn't care. All that matters is that Liam, the love of his life, is getting married and he is able to bring the other love of his life to be a part of that. Everything is working out for the better. Liam will meet Emma and she will charm him with her laughter and her witty remarks. Everything will be as it should be.

There is a spring in Killian's step this morning, and a soaring in his heart he's hoping will stay. It's looking to be a good day. Not only is it his day off, but the first episode of the new season airs tonight and he's hosting a little house party. Not too big— only a few favourites from the rest of the cast; Elsa, Graham, Will and Robin. And of course, Emma, but she might as well live at Killian's, the amount of time she spends there.

Killian makes his way into the kitchen just as the phone rings, a towel clinging to his waist, He throws the towel he was using to dry his hair across the kitchen table, and makes a swipe for the phone. "Hello?"

"Killian, you're up!" Emma says.

Killian smiles, an automatic response to the sound of her voice, soft and gentle in his ear. He leans against the kitchen counter, resting his elbows on the worktop. "Swan. I was just thinking about you."

"You were?" He can hear the skepticism in her voice.

"Of course. You always consume my thoughts."

"You are so cheesy." He can almost hear her roll her eyes, but he's sure she's smiling, like it's some kind of joke. If only that were true, but the majority of his mind— and heart— is consumed by Emma these days. "I rang earlier but you didn't pick up."

"I was in the shower." He lowers his voice to a purr. "Just got out of it, actually…"

"No flirting!" she warns. "I actually rang you for a reason."

"Not just to hear my voice, surely?"

"Sorry, Killian." She laughs. "But I actually kind of have a request for tonight."

"A request? You know that whatever you want, you shall have it." He really _doesn't_ mean his voice to lower into that purr again, but it's like it has a mind of its own.

"I was just wondering if I could bring a plus one? Maybe August?"

"Ah."

 _Anything but that,_ he thinks.

"Look, I know it's last minute and everything but we were texting this morning and he asked me my plans and I kind of just let it slip. He didn't ask to come but I feel a bit bad, and since everyone's going to be here…"

Killian tries to ignore the set of alarm bells that go off in his head at the words "texting" and "this morning". Emma is allowed to text whoever she wants, even if their intentions might not so so honourable. She can take care of herself and it's not like doesn't trust her. She wouldn't betray him.

"Sure," he says, forcing a smile. "Of course he's welcome."

"Thanks. He'll love it. I guess it's just because he's the new guy. I don't wanna leave him out."

"I know, love. Are you still bringing Henry?" he asks, desperate to move onto something that _isn't_ August Booth.

"If that's okay?"

"Of course. You know how much I adore your lad."

"I know." There's a smile in her voice. "But anyway, he's staying at Regina's tonight. She'll probably pick him up from here before things get _too_ late for him. So I was thinking that maybe, after everyone's left…" She trails off.

He raises an eyebrow. "Oh aye? Is this you asking for a sleepover?"

"Maybe it is."

"Don't forget your toothbrush and pyjamas."

"I was kinda gonna forget the pyjamas, actually." Her voice lowers, just like his did. It's softer, like she doesn't want to be overheard. Henry must be in the house. It's a Saturday— he can't have school.

"I thought we weren't meant to be flirting, darling?"

"Who's flirting? I was stating fact."

"In that case, if we're just 'stating fact', I feel it best to inform you that I happen to be in nothing but a towel…"

"Nothing _but_ a towel?" Her voice is still soft. He can hear her shift closer to the phone, adjusting it on her ear.

"Yes."

"So you're essentially naked."

Their voices become softer with every word, in their own little bubble of electricity.

"That I am." He pauses. "And you could be too."

"And… wet?"

"Aye." He pauses again. She swallows. "And you could be too."

She yelps. At first he thinks it's because of what he's said— they've never been into the whole "phone sex" thing, but then when she hears another voice in the background, it all becomes blindingly obvious.

"Henry!" she says, her voice a little breathless. "How long have you been there?"

"I've been waiting for you to get off the phone for ages," Killian hears him say. "If you wanna start your pyjama party early…"

"No!" Her voice is still breathless. This time, with embarrassment. "Anyway, Killian, I'm gonna have to go. So I'll, uh, see you tonight, yeah?"

"Yes." He tries not to chuckle.

"And I can definitely bring August?" Her words are rushed, like she wants to get off the phone as soon as possible. He shakes his head, still suppressing a chuckle.

"Of course."

"Then I'll see you later. Okay, goodbye."

"Goodbye," he says, but he might as well have not bothered. She's already hung up in her haste. With one last chuckle and a shake of his head, he returns it to the hook.

* * *

Killian opens the door to a chorus of 'Whaaaay' and he knows at once who it is before he lays eyes on them. Robin and Will stand at the door, dressed casually in jeans and T-shirts. Robin holds a bottle of red wine, and Will holds a bottle of rum. They hold them up into the light.

"We come bearing gifts," Will says and Robin chuckles beside him.

"Then by all means, come on in." He steps back and they clambour in.

Killian peers out into the rapidly darkening sky. The air is cool, a breeze lifting his hair. There isn't any sign of anyone else. He wonders if Emma will arrive with August, or whether she'll just give him Killian's address.

He doesn't have to wait too long to find out because August is the next person to turn up, on his own. Killian opens the door, a smile on his face. His smile begins to rapidly fall when he realises who it is. He has to fight to keep the remains of the smile on his face.

"Ah, August," he says, hoping his voice sounds smooth and friendly. "Come on in."

"Thanks Killian," he says.

He holds a bottle of wine in one hand and a huge bunch of flowers in the other. They fall out of his arm, colours of white, red, blue, yellow. They're the most beautiful flowers he's ever seen. They must have cost a fortune.

"Mate, they're beautiful," Killian says. "But you shouldn't have."

August laughs. "Oh, they're not for you. They're for Emma." He pushes his way inside when Killian doesn't step back.

"For… Emma?" He asks weakly, closing the door. "Why?"

August turns to face him, his eyes sparkling up in amusement. And for one insane moment, Killian wants to punch that smirk off his face. But August is his house guest and that wouldn't be proper. Instead, he remains quiet and listens to August's explanation.

"Emma's been so kind to me recently, so I feel like she deserves them. I mean, all the tours she's been giving me around set, and all the pointers I've gotten from her. I mean, she even invited me _here,_ and she didn't have to. It's not like anyone else did." He laughs and Killian manages a weak smile. "She's really gone out of her way to be kind to me when no-one else has, y'know what I mean?" His eyes soften. "She deserves so much more than these flowers, but they're all I could get on last minute notice. They cost me an arm and a leg but _God,_ she deserves them."

Killian swallows, scratching the back of his head. He doesn't know why he feels so embarrassed or… ashamed, but he can feel the blush creeping up the back of his neck. "I didn't think Emma was a flower person."

"Really? She was only saying last week how no-one ever buys her flowers."

"Right." He swallows again, his mouth oddly dry.

"Is there anywhere I can put these?" He holds the flowers up. "They're kind of heavy."

"Yes, of course. Just put them on the kitchen counter. Emma will be along in a minute, I'm sure." He forces another one of those smiles, but it's like his face isn't working properly. His eyes remain hard and cold, no matter how much warmth he tries to put in them.

"Thanks."

Killian watches as August disappears into the kitchen and a loud chorus of 'Whaaaay!' is heard. He stands for a moment, confused why wondering why he feels so cold.

Elsa is the next to arrive, which gives Killian some distraction. She greets him with a wide, amber-lipped smile. But she takes one look at his face and her expression drops. She asks him what's wrong in hushed whispers on the porch, but he shakes his head and tries another smile. He can tell she doesn't believe him but she goes on into the living room.

Emma and Henry arrive next, and Killian has never been more relieved to see her in his whole life. She moves into kiss him at once, despite her boy being there, and he returns it.

"You're cold," he says, as he takes her face in his hands and presses another chaste kiss to her lips. "God, Emma, you're freezing."

Her smile doesn't falter. "It's autumn, y'know. The nights are cold."

"Go on in. Warm up."

"Thanks."

She ushers Henry forward and he runs inside, murmuring his hellos to Killian. As soon as he's out of sight, Emma grabs Killian by his shirt and pulls him in for a proper kiss. He's surprised but the feeling of her lips on his is comforting and despite her cold skin, her body is warm. He pulls her close.

"Okay, wow," he murmurs as she pulls back.

"Guess what?" Her lips whisper against his.

"What?"

"I didn't bring my pyjamas." She releases him and then, like she didn't just make a comment that sent him reeling, she says. "Is everyone here?"

"We appear to be waiting on Graham." He steps back to let her inside and she walks past him, the smell of her flowery perfume following her.

"Typical," she says.

Killian is just about to close the door when he hears a " _Wait!_ " He looks up to see Graham running up the garden path, his coat flapping behind him, a bottle of wine in each hand, a dark purple box under his arm, but Killian can't make out what it is.

The sight of him makes Killian's face break out into a smile almost at once. It shocks him to find it's genuine. It seems that the days where he fantasised about burying something into Graham's neck are long gone.

" _Hurry up,_ " he calls, laughter escaping his lips.

Graham runs up the garden path and comes to a stop in front of the door. "Hey," he breathes out, his breaths coming in pants. He whizzes by Killian into the house. Under the lights, Killian can see him properly. His crazy mess of curls stick up in all directions, and his cheeks are flushed. He starts to speak but all that comes out is wheezing.

"Bloody hell," Killian laughs. "You okay, mate?"

"There's my exercise for the week," Graham says, still struggling to speak. He thrusts the wine bottles into Killian's hand. "For you. They were out of rum."

"What about those," he said, nodding to the box under Graham's arm.

When he swipes them from under his arm, Killian gets a good look at them. It's a box of chocolates, a variety of them displayed on the front. There's every chocolate he can think of: caramel, toffee, honeycomb.

"Let me guess, for Emma?" Killian says, grimly.

"No." Graham frowns, holding the box out for him. "For you."

"Oh. Right."

He takes the box from Graham's hands. It's big. It must have about three layers of chocolates in there. Belgian chocolates, he realises, with a twitch of his lips.

"I figured that everyone would be bringing wine or rum or something, so I thought I'd bring something different."

"I'm not complaining." He shakes the box and the chocolates rattle. "They're all my favourites."

"Mine too, if you're willing to share one." He chuckles and Killian finds himself smiling back. "But seriously, thanks for inviting me. You didn't have to be so… nice to me after our… differences, so I really appreciate it."

"Don't worry about it."

"Hang on—" Graham frowns. "Why did you think these were for Emma? You're the host, right?"

"Ah." He sighs, casts a glance towards the kitchen and then lowers his voice. "August bought Emma a bunch of flowers."

"Flowers? How come?"

"To thank her for being so nice to him."

He expects Graham to tell him that that's nice, or laugh, or smile. At the very least, he expects him to brush it off and continue on into the kitchen. But his frown becomes deeper. He scratches his cheek in thought.

"I'll be honest with you. I'm not sure I trust him, Killian."

 _Thank God,_ Killian thinks. He bites back a sigh of relief.

"You're not?"

"No, I'm not."

He opens his mouth to continue and Killian finds himself inching closer, wanting to hear everything, all his suspicions about August. Hearing that someone else doesn't trust him makes him feel like he might not be going mad, that he might not be just a jealous boyfriend. But anything that he might have confessed is cut off when an explosion of laughter comes from the kitchen.

Killian and Graham follow the noise with their eyes.

"I bet that's August's fault," Graham says. "He's funny, y'know." He doesn't say it with the conviction of someone who believes it. He says it like that's the most suspicious thing in the whole world. "We best go in there."

"You're right."

Killian follows Graham into the kitchen. Everyone is huddled around the island in the middle of the room, grinning. They all have drinks in their hands, having helped themselves to Killian's cupboards. It doesn't bother him, not when he's told them to do that before. Or it wouldn't bother him if it isn't for August, who holds a glass in one hand, the flowers in the other. He holds them out to Emma, who's grinning from ear-to-ear.

"For me?" She takes them, her face falling into a mix of awe and shock. " _Why?_ "

August shrugs. "What can I say? You've been so good to me these last few weeks. Honestly, I didn't think I was going to fit in. Everyone knows each other. But _you_ — you've made this experience something I'll never be able to be able to replace."

She brings the flowers up to her nose. "They're beautiful."

"They pale in comparison to your beauty."

 _They pale in comparison to your beauty_. He says it almost as a throwaway line, and no-one else seems to notice that he has just said a very romantic line to _Killian's_ girlfriend. He has to clench his jaw to stop himself from saying anything as the wave of rage washes over him. But one look at Graham's somber face and sorrowful eyes tell him that he's not _entirely_ out of line.

"Thank you," Emma says, still breathing in the scent. "No-one ever buys me flowers, so it's a nice surprise."

That seems to be a throwaway line too, but it makes Killian's heart squeeze. He wants to groan, to bury his head in his hands because _he_ should be buying her flowers. Instead, this frankly awful copy is doing it for him. He should grab August by the hair and throw him out of his house.

But instead, he takes a deep breath. In and out. Calm.

 _Calm._

And then:

"Who's ready for the episode? I think it starts in ten." He says it with such ease that he's fairly sure no-one will notice the storm building inside him.

* * *

Everyone assumes their places, spreading themselves out on the long corner sofa in Killian's living room. Killian takes the end of the sofa where he can get up easily to refill everyone's drinks, with Emma sat next to him. To Killian's complete annoyance, August sits the other side of Emma. Killian tries not to scowl at that.

Elsa sits at the other end of the sofa, next to Henry. They chat away about something that Killian can't quite make out, but if the grin on the boy's face is anything to go by, Killian can assume its adequate conversation.

Graham sits on the other side of August in conversation with Will and Robin. Robin says something Killian can't make out and the group of three erupt into laughter. Killian turns to Emma to inquire what must be so funny, but she's talking to August about the episode.

So Killian sits there, his hand clasped around his glass, staring into the dark liquid. Never has he felt so alone in his own house.

He's relieved when the clock above the television tells him it's five to nine. Everyone calls out for Killian to turn the TV on and he does, with a grin. There's a flutter of nerves in her stomach, as there always is with the beginning episode to a new season. He never knows what the reaction of the fans is going to be.

"You know what we should do?" August tells everyone while they wait for the show to come on, absently watching an advertisement for toothpaste. "We should take a photo!"

"Killian should do it," Graham says at once. When everyone turns to look at him, he shrugs. "He's the host."

So that's how Killian finds himself perched on the arm of the sofa, his own arm outstretched, trying to hold his phone as high as he can. Everyone crowds around him, Henry included. He watches them adjust themselves in the camera; their hair, their clothes.

"Alright, everyone ready?" Killian asks.

They confirm they are and he presses the button, a flash omitting light throughout the room. Killian's eyes ghost over the photo and he smiles. Everyone looks so happy, grinning with their teeth, their eyes sparkling, but the person he can't take his eyes off is Emma. She's so beautiful, and she looks especially gorgeous in this photo. He's so distracted by her, he hardly notices the twinge of annoyance at how close August moves to her, his arm thrown casually around her.

He passes the phone around, listening to everyone's comments.

"God's sake, is that how big my nose is?" Will complains.

"Why did no-one tell me to brush my hair?" Graham laughs.

When it reaches Killian again, he posts it to twitter with the caption, _Good wine. Good friends. Good TV._ His mentions explode at once as everyone retweets and likes. People are immediately panicking, tweeting each other. He scrolls down some of the comments, chuckling to himself.

 _Omg look at them they're together_

 _MY BABIES ARE ALL UNITED_

 _So does this mean august is a series regular?_

Below that someone had replied with:

 _Yes. it was confirmed a few weeks ago that he's a regular. he's a prince but I guess we'll find out more tonight_

The tweets keep pouring in.

 _KILLIAN IS SAT NEXT TO EMMA. THIS IS NOT A DRILL_

 _#CAPTAINSWANISREAL_

 _Killian looks sooooo good_

That makes him chuckle. He replies a quick, _Yes I do ;)_ , which results in a major freak out on the girls' part. At least he assumes she's a girl. Her name is _MrsKillianJones,_ which makes him chuckle even more. He replies to his own tweet: _Also I prefer a summer wedding, Mrs. Jones ;)_

"You are _such_ a flirt," Emma says. He hadn't realised she was looking over his shoulder.

"If you're gonna make their hearts race, you might as well do it thoroughly." He chuckles. "You know, they're still convinced we're together."

"I kinda wish _we_ didn't know you were together," Will calls. "Maybe then we wouldn't hear you having sex in your trailer."

Everyone explodes in laughter.

"Emma's lad's in the room!" Killian chokes out.

His eyes immediately fly to Henry who looks over at Will. He expects to see his face drop into one of horror, but instead, he just looks bored. He just shrugs and looks over at his mortified mother. "I heard your phone conversation this morning, so… y'know."

Emma buries her head in her hands. "You're kidding, right?"

"I'm not a kid anymore, mom."

"Hang on—" Will begins. "What phone conversation is this?"

But before Henry reveals any of their secrets, the theme tune for _Kings and Queens_ starts and everyone casts their attention to the screen. Killian breathes out a sigh of relief and reaches for his phone.

 _About to watch Kings and Queens,_ he tweets _. Who's with me?_

Again, he mentions explode and he forced to tweet out:

 _Hey! Eyes on the screen, loves. The TV screen, that is._

The episode is good, in Killian's opinion. It's still Belle's writing, which means it hasn't all gone wrong quite yet. It's an odd thing watching himself on screen. He'd never seen himself, not truly, until the first time he watched something he was in. Now, in HD, he can see all his imperfections, even that pesky scar on his cheek. It's funny to see himself reflected, to see the way his mouth moves, how it quirks up when he speaks. The voice coming from his lips is his but at the same time, it isn't. It's like watching a strange, warped version of himself, and he fears he'll never get used to it. If he and the cast didn't have the tradition of watching the episodes together, he'd probably never watch it.

But the most difficult thing to watch doesn't come until halfway through the episode when Killian watches himself close the chamber door and cross the take Emma in his arms. He knows what scene this is— he filmed it a few weeks ago— and as they kiss, he's starting to remember every embarrassing detail of the sex scene.

Henry seems to grasp what's happened a moment after the first kiss and he groans, burying his head in his hands. "Really?"

"Don't watch!" Elsa says, then laughs.

"I didn't think this was going in the first episode," Emma says. "Y'know, since we filmed it late." Only the slight tapping of her foot indicates that she's nervous. "Sorry, Henry."

"It's okay," Henry says, voice muffled by his hands. "Just tell me when it's over."

But it's a long one— the longest yet— and Killian becomes _very_ aware of the wet sounds of kissing, the sighs and the gasps. The sound of fabric rubbing against fabric. And then he starts to moan and he finds himself covering his own eyes with his hand, trying to ignore the red blush creeping up his neck.

Robin coughs awkwardly and Will has to stop himself from snorting. It's almost like watching a sex scene with his parents but it's worse because it's them. It's _him._ And it seems to go on a lot longer than he remembers, like time has been stretched thin. When the scene ends and the episode continues as normal, Killian's hands slowly start to unclench, his body beginning to relax. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Henry emerge from his hands.

He glances over at Emma. She doesn't seem too bothered by it. There isn't any blush creeping up her neck, and apart from the foot tapping, no signs of worry. Maybe she's just become a truly amazing actress.

When August comes on, he has to stop himself from scoffing, since the man himself is in the same room with him.

When the episode ends, everyone cheers and applauds. They all start to congratulate each other and immediately turn to Henry to ask him what he thought of the episode, as a fan. Henry reels off something about it being amazing, blushing under Elsa's gaze, and Killian zones out. He turns to Emma and throws an arm around her.

"Post-show selfie?"

She laughs. "Sure."

He pulls her close and she rests her cheek against his, her head practically on his shoulder. He can feel her hair tickling his chin and neck as he moves his arm, holding the phone out. He snaps a quick picture of the two of them and brings his phone back, his arm still thrown around Emma.

"You look heaven sent," he says and he can feel her smiling next to him.

He posts the picture with the caption: We loved it! _What did you think?_

Again, his phone blows up with tweets from all around the world. There are many generic tweets, the ones he'd expect, such as:

 _AMAZING, I loved it_

 _I loved it it was brilliant!_

 _You guys look great! Amazing episode 3_

And also ones about himself and Emma, as he knew there would be:

 _They look so married_

 _They are together. #captainswan I ship it_

 _Okay but has anyone else realised that theY JUST WATCHED THEMSELVES MAKING OUT ON SCREEN_

Everyone stays for another hour and Killian continues to top up the drinks, watching as everyone slowly starts to get more red-faced and merry. The laughter becomes louder and the conversation becomes slowly more animated.

At half ten Regina picks Henry up from the house. Judging by Henry's sombre frown and the way he drags his feet, Killian is willing to bet that the lad doesn't want to leave, but his mother is a stern woman. Well, both his mothers. His mood soon improves when Elsa gives him a kiss on the cheek goodbye, and he blushes from his head to his toe. He's still blushing when he leaves with Regina.

Though Killian struggles to remember most of the night, at some point Isaac is mentioned, as he knew he would be. He's relieved to find out that the majority of people hate Isaac just as much as Killian. He knew he could count on his friends.

"I mean, slowly cutting Belle out of everything," Will says, pointing his glass as he speaks, glaring at nothing in particular. "What a dick!"

"And I don't like these changes he's making," Robin says. "First Alexander and Rose— what next? They're the _it_ couple. If you guys have been on social media in the past hour, you'll see the love everyone has for them." He sways on the spot, sloshing half his drink over the glass. Killian feels a sick sort of pleasure at his defense of Alexander and Rose in front of August. He almost wants to shout _ha! Take that!_

"And Grumpy said some of us would have to be cut," Emma says, frowning.

"Thank God no-one's been cut yet," says Elsa. "I know it's the nature of the job, but I don't think I can stomach the thought of anyone leaving."

"Speak for yourself," Graham says. "I was almost cut last year, remember? If those scripts hadn't been leaked, I probably wouldn't be standing here with you right now."

They all murmur in agreement.

"Well I for one," Killian begins, holding his glass up. It shines in the light. "Am _thrilled_ that you are still among us, Graham. It wouldn't be the same without you." And he means it.

One by one everyone starts to leave, disappearing out of his house and into the night, thanking him for a great evening. Elsa is the first to leave, with hugs for everyone, and then Robin and Will. Eventually it's only Graham and August left, sat on the sofa, chatting about work with Emma.

Killian's eyes fly to the clock. It's pushing eleven and all Killian can think about is a long night with Emma. A long night that will soon be very short if they don't leave soon. He doesn't know the best way to broach the subject, but he thinks Emma might be of some help if her yearning looks are anything to go by. She confirms his suspicions when they're in the kitchen together, topping up their drinks.

"Is it bad that I kinda want you alone?" she whispers, as quiet as her drunk-self will let her and he chuckles, shaking his head.

"I believe a pyjama party was promised. Without the pyjamas." He raises an eyebrow.

"How do we get rid of them?"

"Follow my lead."

They return to the living room, fresh drinks in hand. Killian is _very_ aware of Emma behind him, her body brushing his as they come to stand side by side in the living room. He longs to sweep her upstairs or, in the very least, to kiss her _here_ , but that would not appropriate with guests. So instead he gives a very loud yawn, stretching one arm above his head.

"Is that how late it's gotten?" He gestures to the clock with his head. "Bloody hell. How time flies."

Graham immediately jumps up. "Whoops. I guess that means I should be off then!" he says. Killian sighs relief, especially as Graham looks over to August and says, "You coming?"

"Actually, I think I'm gonna stay here for a little bit, if that's okay?" He directs a look at Killian.

"Of course. Stay as long as you wish," he says, hating himself, wishing he'd throw the man out the door.

They bid Graham farewell with hugs and a pat on the back. Graham thanks Killian for a great night and gives him a meaningful look Killian doesn't quite understand. But he stares back, trying to make it look like he understands a great deal. Then he's gone, out into the cold and darkness, and there's only August to get rid of.

But getting rid of him proves nearly impossible.

Regardless of how many times Killian makes a comment about the time, or how Emma yawns, August doesn't seem to get the hint. He drinks his wine slow, hardly taking in mouthfuls when he sips, chatting to Emma. They talk about their upcoming scenes, and about jokes Killian isn't aware of. Though Emma usually laughs easily around August, Killian starts to notice that her laughter is strained. Her smile, forced.

And eventually she says, "I'm actually really tired," throwing a pointed look in Killian's direction.

"Me too," Killian says, rubbing his eyes. "Bloody hell, I'm exhausted. I think I might call it a night."

"I think that's my cue," August says, eyes sparkling.

 _Thank God._

But then he looks directly at Emma and says, "Do you wanna share a cab?"

"Oh." She glances over at Killian. "That's really thoughtful of you August but I'm kind of… staying here."

"You are?"

"Yeah."

"Overnight?"

She frowns. "Yeah."

 _What else could she have meant?_ Killian wants to scream. What next, is he going to ask her if she's going to sleep in his bed, if she's going to stay the morning. The man needs to leave. It's exhausting to just look at him.

"Then I _really_ best be off then," August laughs. Emma laughs too.

Killian tries to join in the laugher. "Yes, you best leave."

By the time he's gone— which takes him an extra ten minutes— Killian is starting to feel tired. No, not tired. Exhausted. He struggles to keep his eyes open and one look at Emma tells him that she feels the same.

"So uh," he says, scratching the back of his head. "I take it you'll want to borrow a pair of my pyjamas?"

She nods. "Yeah. I think I'm actually too tired to…"

"Understandable." He gives her a smile.

But as it turns out, they end up sleepily making love to one another. It's the most gentle experience he's ever had, especially where Emma is concerned. They cover each other with clumsy kisses and their touches are less than careful, but there's something in it that makes it incredible so special. Something that makes his heart want to burst from his chest as he holds her or, embarrassingly, something that makes his eyes wet with tears. Tears, he doesn't let her see.

It's the softest, most tender way he has ever loved a woman and with every kiss, there is feeling. With every touch, there is longing. When it's over and he holds her in the darkness, he waits for it. The _I love you,_ that he knows will inevitably fall from her lips. Because after this, after everything, how can she still be afraid to say it? How can she doubt it?

But it doesn't come.

* * *

 **Thanks for reading! I'm really loving all your comments - they're so fun to read! XD Let me know your theories!**


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

* * *

The corset is tight. A little _too_ tight today. And even though it's November and the air is icy cold, she still feels like she's unable to breathe properly. She's too warm, thanks to the layers of clothing she wears. She has half a mind just to take it all off.

She's glad when her scene, another one with August, comes to an end, signalling she's done for the day. It's only six PM, a rarity for this job, but she'll take the early finish, even if it means she'll have to get up early the next day to make up the hours. In truth, there's not much they can film— they're coming to the hiatus soon and they're already ahead of schedule. It's unusual for them; maybe Isaac's influence isn't entirely a bad thing.

Emma and the rest of the cast are planning to meet for drinks after her scene to celebrate the early finish. It was August's idea. He'd claimed he was starting to become close to all the cast, but Emma has a sneaky suspicion that he's just using it as an excuse to get close to Elsa. Ever since he brought her up, Emma has been watching them. She's always been good at watching people, but even a blind man could see August's feelings for Elsa. Emma often catches him staring at her, only to look away shyly when she noticed. It's cute.

Emma unlaces her corset and changes quickly into her leggings and shirt. The material feels softer against her skin and without all the scratchy lace and the heavy materials, she feels almost naked, as she always does when she rejoins the world of the living.

She unbraids her hair, and is pleasantly surprised to find it fall in gentle waves around her shoulder. She doesn't have time to change before drinks, and there would be little point, especially since they're leaving to go to the bar around the corner.

She touches up her make-up, adding some eyeliner and mascara before she grabs her bag, slings it over her shoulder, and exits the costume trailer.

She steps down the metal stairs into the cool night air. It's pitch black and even though the nights have been darker for some time now, she's still not entirely used to it, especially after spending so much time in the bright lights of the make-up trailer and the studio. The air is crisp with winter and she curses herself, wishing she brought some sort of jacket. Her red leather one would have done nicely, but she'd forgotten to pick it up.

She's so busy cursing herself that she hardly notices that someone's in her path until she walks into them. Or him, since he's taller than her, and more angular. She looks up into his face and her own immediately breaks out into a smile. Killian.

"In a hurry, love?" he asks, with a wide smile.

"Not exactly," she says, folding her arms. She looks him up and down. He's wearing his normal clothes; a shirt and his usual leather jacket. So _he_ was smart enough to bring a coat. Like her, his bag is slung over his shoulder, looking less like a bag, resembling more of a deformed lump. "You finished now, huh?"

"Aye." He takes a step forward to her and she catches the scent of perfume and powder. "So how about you and I set sail?"

She quirks an eyebrow. "Set sail?"

"You know, back to my place. We should probably take advantage of our time off, am I right? And it's such a _beautiful_ night…"

She wrinkles her nose. She's pretty sure it's about to rain. "That would be great Killian, but I can't."

"Ah. Say no more. Henry, is it?"

She shakes her head. "No, it's— I'm going out for drinks with the rest of the cast. You're not coming?"

He frowns, the space between his eyebrows puckering as he shakes his head. "I don't believe I've had an invitation?"

Emma frowns. "You haven't? I'm pretty sure August said he invited you. But I might have misheard him."

She doesn't miss the way Killian's jaw clenches upon hearing August's name. "He said that, did he?"

"Yeah, that's what he said." She tilted her head. "Unless… he did ask you and you misheard?"

"I sincerely doubt that." His words lack warmth.

She frowns. "So, are you coming or not? Because—" She checks her watch. "I kinda really need to go now if I'm gonna get there on time."

"I'm sure August won't miss your company for a few minutes. Or perhaps he will, considering how obsessed he's been with you as of late." He flashes her an empty, sarcastic smile.

Her stomach flips at his words. "And what's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, come on Emma." He gives her another one of those smiles. "Surely you've noticed the way he follows you around like a little lost puppy?"

She bristles. "August doesn't follow me around."

"Of course not. That's why he's been at my house every week to watch the episode with us."

"I invited him!" Her voice is a little loud a few passing extras look to them, eyes bright with interest. Emma wraps her arms around herself and takes a step towards him, lowering her voice. It wouldn't be great if news of their disagreement— not even that— got out. The media would have a field day. They're always fighting for a scrap of information about them. "You know I invited him. And if you remember rightly, you'll remember that I asked _you_ if it was okay. You had every opportunity to say no."

He glares at her and she glares back, arms folded. His gaze sears into her but she doesn't move her eyes, not once. She'll stand her ground, as she always does. She _knows_ she's in the right now; Killian is the one being silly. No, more than silly. He's being a complete and utter idiot. It strikes her as completely out of character. Killian doesn't have a tendency to be impulsive. He is so gentle and kind when it comes to her. He always thinks about his words and his actions. He does his best to make her feel loved in every respect. He never pushes her. He is always the perfect gentleman. She struggles to remember a time when he wasn't, but she manages to remember one. It was way back, before they were even together, when—

When Killian believed her and Graham to be together. _That_ had sparked the hostile attitude she sees before her. Her next words, she speaks with caution, eyes fixed on his face.

"Killian, are you _jealous?_ "

" _No,_ " he hisses, too quickly. She raises an eyebrow and he shakes his head. "No. I'm not. I have nothing to be jealous of. Why would I?" And then, just like that, his face changes. That mask of anger melts away to something more gentle and familiar. He sighs, his shoulders deflating. When he meets her eyes again, his are sheepish. Slightly ashamed. "I'm being a fool, aren't I?"

"A fool? How very archaic. It seems like you've been getting too wrapped up in _Kings and Queens._ " She means it in more way than one.

He sighs again, nodding. "That I am." He frowns, almost in thought. "I'm sorry, love. I suppose I've just had a difficult day and with Isaac and the scripts—"

"You don't have to explain yourself to me." She takes his hand. "I understand. What's happening recently— it would make anyone feel mad. But it's _just_ a show. And I'm more than sure August doesn't harbour any feelings for me."

He looks at her from beneath his eyelashes. "How can you be so sure?"

"He—" She casts her eyes around and then lowers her voice again. "He kinda has a thing for Elsa."

Killian quirks an eyebrow. "Elsa?"

"I know, right?" She allows herself a laugh before all humour drops from her face and she looks up into his eyes, sincerely. She squeezes his hand. "But you should know that if August _did_ feel something for me that wasn't platonic or friendship or whatever, it wouldn't matter. I care about you. I want to be with you."

She pulls him closer by his hand and he rests his forehead against hers. For a moment they stand there, and she breathes in the musky scent of his leather jacket, the lingering aroma of powder and hairspray. For once, she's not worrying about who might be watching or why. She doesn't worry as he strokes her hair with his hand, his other hand settling on her neck. They might be out in the open, but their whole fanbase could see for all she cares. They're in their own little bubble, closed off from the world, closed off from everyone but each other. All she cares about is Killian feeling better— knowing that, though she has yet to say it, she loves him. With every inch of her heart.

Maybe she should say it. Maybe now is the moment.

"I love you," he breathes before she has chance. It's the second time she's heard it since he admitted it the night they were attacked by paparazzi. He's cautious when it comes to those three words, like he's frightened the mention of them might push her away. She takes it as a sign.

"I—"

"Hey, Emma, are you coming?"

The sound makes them both jump, their bubble of intimacy pierced. It's August who holds the needle. Killian sighs, starts to slowly pull back from her. For a second it's like she's in a daze. She shakes her head, trying to get out of it, but her heart is pounding with the adrenaline of the words she was about to say. She feels the adrenaline leave her veins, taking her courage with her.

She looks up at August. She still holds Killian's hand, although he tries to pull away. She doesn't want to let him go. It's strange how there was once a time when she would have shied away from any of his touches, yet now _all_ she wants to do is touch him.

August is dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. He stands a little away from the, but he's watching them with an unreadable expression.

"Give me one minute, August?" Emma says, trying to keep her voice light, though she can feel anger bubbling just under the surface.

"Sure thing." But he doesn't make a move to leave them. He just waits.

Swallowing her irritation, Emma looks back up at Killian, and her gaze immediately softens. Like August's, his expression is unreadable and the only thing Emma can gauge from it is that he's annoyed. A muscle jumps in his jaw as he clenches his teeth. But when he speaks, his voice is perfectly calm. "You should go."

Her eyebrows pull together. "You're not coming with us?"

He shakes his head. He's not looking at her; his eyes are on August. "Alas, I have things to do."

"What things?"

"Scripts to read. I have to Skype my brother. Things like that." But he's still not looking at her and that gut feeling decides to make an appearance.

"You're lying to me."

He gives the air around them a small, nonchalant smile. "That's my story and I'm sticking to it."

Emma reaches out and cups his cheek with her hand, softly moving his head back to face her. His eyes meet hers and there's something empty about them. They make her wish they were still in that bubble of intimacy. She _wishes_ she told him she loved him. She could do it now but August is still lurking and she's not sure how much he can hear. It wouldn't feel right.

So instead she says, "You are acting strange."

Another empty smile. "I'm fine, love." Then he leans in and presses his lips to hers. It's the softest kiss he's ever given her. His lips barely brush hers. "Now go," he whispers. "Enjoy yourself."

He steps away from her, leaving her hand to drop by her side. "Killian—" she tries, but he's already gone, making his way through extras and cameramen. Her voice barely carries through the air—it's weak and feeble— and there's something telling her that she shouldn't go after him, something that makes her feel unsettled by his behaviour. Then he's gone completely and August is by her side, giving her a blinding smile.

"You ready?"

She puts on her best pretend smile. "Sure."

* * *

By the time August and Emma get to the bar, only Elsa is there. She's sat alone in a corner, a drink in her hand. She's so shrouded by darkness, they almost miss her at first and with a sinking feeling, Emma realises they're the only ones here.

But then they catch a streak of white-blonde hair amidst the darkness and Emma's chest loosens. The last thing she wants is to be with August alone, not with the way Killian's acting at the moment. But at the same time, she doesn't want to feel like she _has_ to act a certain way. August is her friend. She shouldn't feel like she has to avoid him, just because Killian is a little bit jealous.

Should she?

It was _Killian_ who decided not to come to drinks. He was given the option. At least, that's what she tells herself as she slides into the booth next to Elsa. The leather seat is cool through her leggings. The music isn't _too_ loud, so she's able to talk at almost normal level to Elsa.

"Where is everyone else?" When August had told her about who'd be turning up, he'd told her that Will, Robin and Graham would all be there.

She shrugs. "Couldn't make it, I'm afraid."

"That's a shame," August says, sliding in next to Emma. He sits close to her, so that his leg brushes hers. It's not entirely uncomfortable. "They told me they were looking forward to it."

"Yeah, they were," Elsa says with a shrug. "But Grumpy called them back in. Apparently they don't get to leave early like the rest of us. They have to re-shoot some of the scenes. According to Isaac, that is." She frowns. "Apparently he's not happy with something."

August matches her frown. "That's not very fair."

"That's the business. It's rare that we're called in again but when we are, we have to do it. It's usually on cold, wet nights if the directors are feeling generous." She gives August a smile, her eyes sparkling under the lights. "But let's not be sad. It's not our fault they have to go back to work. I'm just glad that I'm not."

Emma laughs. "How selfless of you."

She shrugs. "What can I say?"

"You know what?" August says. "We should toast. But we need drinks for that. Emma, what can I get you?"

"Just a wine, I think." She glances over at Elsa's glass, which is almost empty. She must have been here a while. "And Elsa needs a top up too."

"Of course, of course. I'll be back in a moment."

He disappears through the people, into the darkness and they watch him go. When he's disappeared completely, Emma sits back in her seat, trying to relax.

"Is Killian not here?" Elsa asks.

Upon hearing his name, Emma feels a pang in her chest. "No, he's… not."

Elsa quirks an eyebrow. It must be Emma's tone, which is far from convincing that everything is alright. "Trouble in paradise?"

"Not exactly. He said he had… stuff," she frowns. "He said he has to Skype his brother. The one who hates me, by the way." She looks down at the polished table, wishing August would hurry up with those drinks. _God,_ she needs one.

"Liam?"

"That's the one."

"Maybe he needs some space. I mean, you guys have been spending a lot of time together. Some would argue that it's too much."

"Maybe." But Emma doesn't feel that way. If anything, she'd rather spend more time with him. It is never enough. And those few precious nights she gets with him alone, without some director telling her what to say to him, feel like diamonds amidst an ocean of glass. She says as much to Elsa, just without the glass metaphor.

"Maybe you should move in together, then," Elsa says.

Emma looks up. "What?"

"Are you honestly telling me the thought hadn't crossed your mind?"

"Honestly? No."

God, no. Not once. She'd never thought about that, not when she was enjoying staying around his house so much. It felt natural, like a routine. She fits into his daily schedule perfectly. Almost too perfectly. But with the way Killian acted over the possibility of a baby, and now the way he's acting with August, she has to ask herself whether he's ready to move in.

Is _she?_

"Do you want to?" Elsa asks. Her eyes, wide and nonjudgmental, are fixed earnestly on her friend. She has a way of making Emma open up to her, just like Mary Margaret can. Few people have been able to to do that in her life.

"I need to be more drunk for this conversation."

That's when August shows up, drinks in hand. He passes them out and Emma is glad of the distraction. She doesn't like the way her stomach became all fluttery when Elsa mentioned the concept of moving in with Killian. Not to mention the images that crossed her mind. She can see them now; waking up every morning with Killian, making breakfast together, making love whenever they want, _wherever_ they want. The thoughts make her tremble.

But what about Henry? She can't leave him behind, not now she has him back. And she's not sure Killian will appreciate it if she moves a teenage boy into his home, regardless of how many bedrooms and bathrooms he has. Even though Henry spends half of his time at Regina's, it's a huge responsibility and not one she'd want to impose on him unless he was completely sure. And she's not sure he is. Maybe that's why he hasn't asked, even though now she's thinking about it, it seems the most natural thing to do. The most logical step. Moving in should come before marriage and—

Whoa, Emma. _Marriage?_ She hasn't even told him she loves him yet. She'll be changing that, very soon, but it doesn't take away the fact that there are simple too many variables. Not to mention, the media would explode. But at least it would put to a stop to the rumours, replacing them with facts.

"How's your drink?" August asks, nodding to the glass in her hand, untouched by her lips.

She takes a sip and flavour explodes on her tongue. _This_ is what she needs, even though she hasn't eaten. And even though it's impossible, the first sip goes straight to her head. She's already beginning to feel warm underneath her clothes.

Elsa doesn't mention Killian again and Emma's glad. She sits back and listens to Emma and August talk. Anyone could see the way they feel about each other. The way they lean towards each other, past Emma, like she's a third wheel. That's how she feels, and she finds herself wishing Killian was here. She pulls out her phone to text him but then she remembers how strange he was acting earlier, and decides against it, slipping it back into her pocket.

"And then," August says, pausing to take a sip of his drink. Elsa's eyes are wide and on him. It's like Emma doesn't even exist. "I said, "Let the woman go, fool," and he did." Elsa erupts in laughter, but Emma has missed the conversation, her thoughts too wrapped up in Killian.

"What do you think, Emma?" August asks.

 _Oh shit._

She looks up. "About what?"

He and Elsa look between each other and he gives a chuckle. "The story."

She decides to be honest, biting her lip. "I'm sorry, August but I wasn't listening."

He doesn't seem to be too offended. He laughs, shaking it off. "Story of my life. Most people don't listen to me. They find my stories the work of fiction."

Emma quirks an eyebrow. "Are they?"

"Now _that_ would be telling."

All three of them laugh.

"Don't mind Emma," Elsa says. "She needs to cheer up a little bit, but she's thinking about Killian."

Emma shoots her a look— she's not sure Killian will appreciate being mentioned in Elsa way especially to August— but she doesn't seem to catch it. Or she does, and she just chooses to ignore her. The alcohol has loosened her tongue and it's like she doesn't have any control over her words. Emma's more than sure a completely sober Elsa would keep her mouth shut, but it doesn't stop her from groaning when Elsa says, "Emma is annoyed that Killian chose to Skype his brother than come out with us."

"Huh." August looks at Emma. "He didn't want to come?"

"He said he hadn't been invited. I thought you invited him?"

August shakes his head. "I planned to but I never got round to it. I thought I'd leave the job up to you."

Emma frowns. She's more than sure August had told her he'd invited Killian and Killian had said yes, but she lets it go. There's little point in arguing. She must have heard wrong— it wouldn't be the first time she's made a mistake, or thought things had happened when they hadn't.

"But Skyping his brother…" August trails off, shaking his head. "I hope you don't mind me saying Emma, but that's kind of a dick move."

"His brother lives in England. They rarely have time to chat, so it's important that they do." She doesn't know why her words come out so defensive, or why she feels the need to defend Killian against August. He's only stating his opinion.

"Still, he should have come out with us. With you, his girlfriend." August's eyes soften.

"I don't think Liam would appreciate being blown off for me."

He raises his eyebrows. "Why's that?"

"Liam doesn't like Emma," Elsa explains. "For some, unknown reason."

"He read an article about my past. I—" She shakes her head. She doesn't feel embarrassed to say the words; she knows she should own it. "I had Henry in prison. And then gave him up for adoption, so Liam doesn't trust me. I can't really blame him for it."

"But wait a moment." August frowns. "Henry's in your life now, right? Unless some other boy has been watching the episodes with us?"

"No, that's Henry."

"Then you've already made up for your mistakes. Not that anyone can call them mistakes. Not really. Giving a child up for adoption is nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, it's pretty brave."

Emma looks down at her drink. She hadn't thought of it like that.

"If anything," August continues. "It should make Liam respect you more."

"Too right!" Elsa chimes in. "The bastard needs to get his own head out his ass, it sounds like. He doesn't even _know_ you. He shouldn't be making assumptions about you."

That's true, too, Emma realises.

"It doesn't matter," she says. "It just is what it is."

August takes another sip of his drink before he speaks again. "And what's Liam gonna do when you guys get married and have kids? Not come to your wedding?"

"Whoa there." Emma hardly hears her own laugh over the sound of alarm bells ringing in her head. "Who said anything about marriage?"

August gives her a look. "C'mon, Emma. We all know that it's gonna happen soon. You guys are perfect for each other, and anyone can see how much you care about each other. I'm surprised Killian hasn't popped the question already." He sighs. "He might as well get a move on."

"Hold on. I'm not even sure I _want_ to get married."

"You're not?" August's eyes slink towards Emma. She sees something flash in his face but she's not entirely sure what it is.

"No."

"Yeah, they haven't even moved in together yet," Elsa says.

"Oh wow," August sighs. "Well, that's awkward."

Emma narrows her eyes. "What is?"

"Killian was only telling me the other day he plans to get married and have children. Not now, obviously, but eventually. In the future. He was telling me marriage is a dealbreaker."

Emma doesn't believe that for one second, which sends another sound of alarm bells through her head. Surely, Killian wouldn't talk to August about marriage, especially not with the way he's been acting recently. It doesn't make sense. She narrows her eyes at August.

Elsa seems to be on the same wavelength for she says, "Killian… was talking you you about… marriage and… babies?"

"I was surprised too." He sighs. "But to be honest, I brought it up. I was telling him about a girlfriend I had who kept pressuring me to propose to her, but I didn't want that. I still don't. Marriage, it doesn't appeal to me."

"It doesn't?" Elsa asks, a little weakly.

But Emma's eyes are on August. She's trying to gauge whether he's telling the truth, but it's too dark to see. But part of her can believe Killian deciding to say the complete opposite of what August was saying to August, just to prove he isn't anything like him. It sounds like Killian, but it doesn't necessary mean he wants to marry her _now._

Elsa must sense Emma's discomfort for she changes the subject, leaning over to August, patting his arm. "Hey, did you see that programme on the cats?"

"Cats?" He quirks an eyebrow.

"Yeah, it was a documentary about this shelter rehoming cats with lost limbs and it was the most heart wrenching thing I've ever seen."

Emma zones out again, her mind flying to Killian. She wonders what he's doing tonight, after he Skypes his brother. That's if he _does_ skype his brother. Before she mentioned going out with August, he was ready for her to come to his house. Surely he would have known she wouldn't have wanted to Skype his brother, too? It doesn't add up. She's so wrapped up in Killian, again, that she hardly realises Elsa's phone has gone off.

That is until Elsa is cursing out a, "Shoot," eyes glued to the screen.

"What's up?" Emma asks.

"It's Grumpy. He wants me back in work. Apparently one of my scenes came out funny, so they're going to have to refilm it, on Isaac's orders. I'm going to have to go."

"That's a shame," August says.

"I know. _Ugh._ _And_ I'm drunk. Can you believe it?" She grabs her coat from where she left it in the corner of the booth and pulls it around her shoulders. "I hope they like drunk Elizabeth because that's what they're getting."

Emma laughs. "Sorry, Elsa."

"It's okay." She shimmies out the booth and then she turns to August. "Thank you for the drinks." And then to Emma. "Thank you for the company. We'll have to do this again sometime, with everyone here. _Especially_ Killian; he's the life and soul of the party."

For some reason, Emma isn't entirely convinced that he would have been tonight.

They wave goodbye and watch as she leaves. When she's gone, Emma hisses out, "What's he playing at?"

"Who?"

"Isaac."

August sighs. "I wish I knew." Then a thought strikes him. "Hey— maybe all that power has gone to his head. I'm pretty sure he was only working on small shows until he got this one. It's kind of his big break."

Emma's gaze snaps to his. "You knew him?"

"No, I just researched him. I'm good at researching. Writer's thing, and all." He laughs.

"I see."

They fall into an uncomfortable silence. Emma sips at her drink and stares at the table, searching her brain for something to talk about. Usually they have much to talk about, but tonight, Emma's head is so full of Killian. She can't think of a topic that _isn't_ Killian.

"Do you wanna take a selfie?" August asks.

Emma blinks in surprise. "Sure."

He pulls the phone out his pocket and Emma watches as he turns on his camera. "You get me the followers," he says, as he holds the phone up. "Is that selfish?"

She laughs. "I guess."

"Come closer, Emma."

She shuffles closer to him. He throws an arm around her, pulling her even closer. He leans in until his cheek is pressed against her cheek, his hair brushing her hair. It feels too close, but within a smile and a matter of seconds, it'll be over.

A smile.

A flash.

He brings the phone back down and loads up his instagram. She watches for a moment as he types on his phone, tongue between his teeth, thinking of a caption. After a moment, his face lights up into a smile and he looks up at her. "Wanna hear it?"

"Go on."

He clears his throat. "Emma and I. Drinks. Bar. All alone. :("

"We wouldn't be if Isaac didn't keep stealing all our actors away," she says.

He laughs. "True, true."

They don't stay for much longer. With the absence of Elsa and the ghost of Killian, they're unable to keep the conversation going. They speak a little about work, but that's all. Emma has no interest tonight in listening to August's tales of travelling, or other things he tends to bring up. It isn't long before they part ways.

When Emma gets in, she calls Killian, needing to hear his voice, needing to know that everything is okay.

But she gets his voicemail.

* * *

 **Hey guys! Sorry for the delay, but I hope this makes up for it! As always, let me know what you think. I'm sorry it's a bit angsty at the moment. :(**


	15. Chapter 15

**Killian**

* * *

 _Bloody bastard_ , Killian thinks as he glares at his computer screen. Amidst the blue lights of twitter is a dark photo, taken inside a bar. Emma and August sit ridiculously close together, their cheeks pressed close, light in their eyes. Emma looks happier than he's seen her in a while; happier with August than she does when she's with him.

 _Bastard, bastard, bastard._

He knows he shouldn't torture himself, but that's exactly what he can't help but do. After all, he _did_ deliberately stalk Emma and August's social media all night, waiting for evidence of their time together. But this isn't a new thing. He's had the bastard on tweet alert since he first joined the show.

His eyes cast over the picture again and his insides curl.

The caption: "Emma and I. Drinks. Bar. All alone. :("

And just _why_ are they so alone? Unless he'd heard Emma wrong, and he seriously doubted he had, the whole cast was there. Well, near enough. What happened to them? He knows that Elsa was there, but had to be dragged into work. She'd texted him earlier, complaining about the injustice of it all. Maybe that's what happened to the others as well. But it still gives him a bad feeling, especially when Elsa mentioned that it was Isaac who demanded her presence. It's almost as if Isaac planned for Emma and August to end up alone.

Now _that's_ mad. He's fairly sure Isaac and August aren't in one big conspiracy together. He's more than sure there isn't a conspiracy to get Emma and August together.

But… is he?

Because if he looks at the cold hard facts, Isaac hates Killian. Isaac has done his damned best to give him as little screen time as possible. Although Grumpy has been endlessly fighting Killian's corner, Isaac has mostly succeeded.

He leans back on the sofa, running his fingertips along his lips in thought.

Maybe he is going mad. After all, Emma invited him tonight, did she not? It was Killian who decided to turn her down, and he's not entirely sure why he did. He tells himself it's because he didn't want to be in the company of August, but a small part of him disagrees. It whispers to him that he _likes_ the jealousy. At the moment, jealousy is all he has. Like his hatred for Gold he feels that, without it, there's nothing to keep him grounded.

Killian's hand squeezes the glass of rum as he scrolls down the comments. He's already done it a million times before, but new ones keep popping up every second. At least, ever since Emma retweeted it. Some of them are amusing, but others…

Well, they weigh his heart down.

' _They should be a couple',_ one comment says.

' _They look like a couple,'_ says another one.

Killian clutches his drink harder, the glass slipping against his hand. He has to take a deep breath to calm himself. He waits for the rational side to take over and after a moment, it does. It tells him that August and Emma can't _possibly_ be a couple, regardless of what the fans think. For one simple reason. Emma is not a cheater. Emma would never hurt him like that. He can trust her. And he does.

It's August he doesn't trust. The bastard probably suggested the selfie.

 _Bastard, bastard, bastard._

 _Get a hold of yourself, Killian,_ he hisses at himself. He manages it when he comes across a reply to the person who'd tweeted that August and Emma look like a couple.

' _C'mon. Emma is with Killian.'_

But the commenter is ruthless. ' _Um you don't know that.'_

' _They are.'_

' _Sorry. but. they're not'._

Killian has the wild urge to send this girl a reply. ' _Actually, we are a couple. I can photograph the spare toothbrush she has in my bathroom actually, or the piles of clothes I keep for her in my drawer._ '

This girl is adamant. ' _They are.'_

' _How do u know tho?'_

' _Um. The mirror basically confirmed it. And they go to each other's houses all the time. And they are always hanging out'._

' _They're good friends and you can't trust anything the mirror says.'_

 _True,_ thinks Killian, with a small smile. The Mirror happened to publish the article that told him Emma was pregnant. He was a fool when he decided to trust that pile of bloody rubbish. He wouldn't make that mistake again.

But that wasn't to say it was wrong about everything. He allows himself another smile. That is, until, he sees another tweet, something about how they would make a good couple again, and his insides go cold.

He shuts the laptop and downs the rest of his drink. He'll deal with his feelings in the morning.

* * *

But as it turns out, Killian is not the best at dealing with his feelings. They somehow manage to bleed into his filming— into what little scenes he has. Grumpy stops him halfway through a scene with Elsa, where Alexander is admitting his mistrust of Rose to Elizabeth. It's more than uncomfortable; it seems to mirror his own feelings.

"Take five, Killian," Grumpy tells him. He shoots a look over to where Emma and August sit talking, heads bowed, and then turns back to Killian. "I think you need it."

The rest of the week is equally as awful. That is until he gets a call from his agent, who tells him that he's booked on the Teddy Norman show for Friday. He immediately begins to feel the flutter of excitement in his stomach at the thought. He hasn't done an interview for ages and unlike most actors, he loves them, especially if there's an audience. He feeds off the energy. And, for some strange reason, it makes him feel like he can be himself. No-one judges him; in fact, everyone laughs with him. The thought puts a smile on his face for the rest of his day.

He even manages to talk to Emma without it feeling forced. She's in the cafeteria. Usually August's presence would put him off, but today it doesn't. He runs over to Emma, sweeping her off her feet, and twirling her. She squeals, commanding he put her down.

"If the lady insists," he murmurs and puts her down, only to pull her close and plant a kiss on her lips. She kisses him back, smiling.

"Alright, alright!" Will calls from the sidelines. He looks up at them with an expression of disgust on his face. "It's bad enough we can hear you making out in your trailer; don't bring it to lunch."

Before Killian can properly flush at the comment, or deny everything, Graham piques up. "You only hear them because you're the one who has your ear pressed against the door."

Everyone laughs, including Emma and Killian.

Will scratches the back of his ear. "I resent that."

Killian turns back to Emma and gives her another kiss, ignoring the people watching. August, he's happy to see, has turned away, arms folded.

"Easy there, tiger," Emma murmurs. Her cheeks are pink, but she's smiling. "We've got company."

"I know, love. I just miss you."

"Does that mean you're back to your usual self?"

He leans in and growls in her ear. "Why don't you come to mine tonight and see for yourself?"

She moves away, grinning. "I might have to take you up on that offer."

Killian chuckles and presses another, quick kiss to her lips.

"Get a room!" Will yells.

Everyone laughs again and Killian laughs with them. It's amazing how one little thing can make or break a day. It's silly, how happy he is after hearing about the Teddy Norman show, but it reminds him that he's not invisible. In the last few weeks he's felt like he'd fallen off the face of the earth. Being on the Teddy Norman show reminds him that he's important; that he matters. He's still a significant character.

"Hey, Emma?" August calls as Killian settles himself in a seat, throwing an arm around Emma.

"Yeah?"

"Did you see some of the tweets in reply to our selfie?"

"I didn't. Why?"

He chuckles, rubbing his chin in an embarrassed sort of way. "Most people think we're a couple now. How insane is that? Especially when you two are _clearly_ a couple. You're a dream team." He chuckles again. "Mental, isn't it?"

"That it is," Killian growls. "But it must be because of your scenes on the show. Some of the fans have a hard time separating reality from fiction." He resists the urge to add _some of the actors too,_ thinking that might be a childish quip.

He senses Emma's gaze on him and he turns to see her frowning in concern. He offers her a smile but it feels forced and she must notice, because her eyebrows knit together. There's a pause. He's about to tell her everything's alright when she speaks.

"I think we should tell everyone."

He raises an eyebrow. "Tell everyone what?"

"That we're together." His eyes widen and she continues, with a shrug. "I mean, we've been together for a while now, and everyone pretty much knows anyway. I can't tweet anything without your name being mentioned."

"That's true," Killian murmurs. Only recently he'd retweeted a song lyric, something to do with love, and he was flooded with tweets. Only one stuck out in his head. It came in various forms but the message was the same; _is this about Emma?_

"And even though it's fun to watch them fight…" she says, with a curl of her lips. "I think they should know."

"I'm not sure they'll be able to take it. They'll probably explode with glee." Killian tries to keep his voice cool, even though he's fairly sure he's about to explode with glee himself. He'd never considered the fact that Emma might want to tell people, that she might want to make it official.

 _See?_ Nothing to worry about. He's a fool. He and Emma are strong.

"Well, love. I think that's a—"

"Awful idea," says August. They both look at him. His expression is unreadable. "C'mon guys, do the math. If you tell people that you're together, then sure, the fans will be happy, but the media will have a field day. You won't be able to walk out of your houses without being swamped by paparazzi. I'm sorry, Emma—" He gives her a tragic look. "I just thought I'd tell you. I know how much you hate the media."

Emma's face drops. She draws her lower lip in between her teeth. "I hadn't thought about that."

 _No,_ Killian thinks. He stops himself before he can glare at August.

"It'll be like that at first, of course, but I believe it'll be better in the long run. After all, the media seem obsessed with working out whether we are, in fact, together. They've seen us on dates. Yes, they may have seen us go to each other's houses, but that doesn't mean a thing. We could just be really good friends for all they know. We've both stated that we are. If we tell them the truth then they won't have to follow us around to find out; they'll already know."

Emma mulls this over, her eyes glassing in that way they always do when she's thinking. August opens his mouth and closes it again. Killian half expects him to stand up and bellow, "Don't listen to him, Emma!" but he decides to remain silent. Then Emma finally speaks.

"You're right."

Killian sighs in relief. He pulls out his phone before she can change her mind. "Shall I tell them or shall you?"

"No," she says.

His heart jolts. "Emma—"

"We shouldn't tell them on Twitter. We should wait." She gives him a firm nod of the head. He's about to object when— "Until Friday, when we're on the Teddy Norman show."

"You're on the Teddy Norman show?"

"I am." She aims a smile at him. "David rang me and told me this morning. We've got this Friday's slot, which would be a perfect time to say something. Then it comes from us. No doubt we'll probably be asked about our relationship anyway, if last time's anything to go on."

Killian's chest swells. "Love—" He pulls her closer.

"Don't kiss again!" Will shouts from across the table.

Killian rolls his eyes. "Alright.,' and releases her. Emma manages an eye roll as well.

August claps his hands together. "So it's a date."

Killian turns to him. "What?"

"Don't you know?" August grins wide, showing all his teeth. "I'm on the show Friday too. I can't wait. It's going to be fun, isn't it?"

Killian has to fight to keep the smile on his face.

* * *

The days seem to drag by, especially since he spends them watching August's and Emma's kissing scenes. At least they're just kissing scenes— for now. But Killian doesn't want to think about that.

By the time Wednesday comes around, he's trapped in his own bubble of excitement. Only a few more days until his interview. He loves the excitement that interviews bring. Friday won't be any exception.

He can't stop himself from tweeting:

'Catch myself and Emma Friday on the Teddy Norman show, 9PM! I have a big announcement to make; you won't want to miss it.'

He knows he shouldn't have posted the tweet, or mentioned that there was an announcement, but he couldn't help himself. He exercised _some_ restraint. Originally the tweet read _we_ have a big announcement, but he changed it, thinking it might be too obvious.

He takes satisfaction in deliberately missing out August's name. He doesn't see it coming when August does the same thing:

'Catch Emma Swan and I on the Teddy Norman show this Friday! You're not gonna wanna miss it.'

Despite Emma's reassurances that everyone will know the situation by Friday, Killian feels a stab of rage. August's tweet makes it seem like they're vying for the same woman, which couldn't be further from the truth.

Emma is Killian's. No, she doesn't belong to him but in the romantic sense, in the _partner_ sense, Emma is Killian's. Friday will prove it.

"You may think you're winning now, mate," Killian mutters to his screen. "But you'll lose."

He feels like an idiot for saying so. There is no competition.

And he even starts to believe it. That is until he picks up the next set of scripts. He reads them over coffee at his kitchen table. At first it sounds promising. He's in the scripts a lot more than he has been in recently. That is until he reaches the end of the first one, and comes across a scene that makes his stomach flip.

Alexander walking in on Emma and August making love. He knew it was going to happen eventually, but it still feels like a blow. He puts his head in his hands, hating himself, wondering if he'll ever stop feeling like this.

* * *

 **Hey guys, I know it's been a while, but thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this one! I don't know about you, but I kinda wish Killian would punch August in the face.**


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